W.Henry  BishoD 


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THE 


BROWN  STONE  BOY 


AND 


OTHER  QUEER  PEOPLE 


BY 

WILLIAM  HENRY  BISHOP 

AUTHOR  OF  "the  HOUSE  OF  A  MERCHANT  PRINCE,"  "  THE 

GOLDEN   JUSTICE,"   "  DETMOLD,"  "  CHOY   SUSAN," 

"old  MEXICO  AND  HER  LOST  PROVINCES,"  ETC. 


CASSELL  &  COMPANY,    Limited 

104  &  106  Fourth  Avenue,  New  York 


Copyright, 

1888, 

By  O.  M.   DUNHAM. 


All  rights  reserved. 


SRIE 


Y\t\  ^^    ' 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

The  Brown  Stone  Boy,            .        .        .        .  i 

A  Little  Dinner,           .        .        .        .        _  45 

Jerry  and  Clarinda,       .       .        .       .       .  79 

A  Lunch  at  McArthur's,    -        -       -       -  126 

Near  the  Rose,          - 171 

Betwixt  and  Between,        .        _        -        .  208 

A  Christmas  Crime,          .        _        .        _        _  235 

A  Domestic  Menagerie,        -        _        .        .  258 


THE  BROWN-STONE   BOY. 


\  -A-A-H  !  /le's  no  consul-general !  "  cried 
l\  the  brown-stone  boy,  with  an  accent 
of  supreme  disgust. 

"  Oh  yes,  I  think  he  is;  I'm  quite  sure  he 
is,"  I  expostulated.  "  I  had  occasion  to  visit 
the  consul  at  his  office,  and  I  am  sure  this  is 
the  same  man." 

"  Well,  what  I  mean  is  that  he's  no  kind oi  a 
consul-general :  he's  a  fossil.  What  a  treasure 
he'd  have  been  about  ten  thousand  years  ago  ! " 
cried  the  brown-stone  boy,  wagging  his  head 
with  enthusiasm. 

"  How  so?"  I  inquired,  still  puzzled. 

"  He  wouldn't  give  me  a  *  distressed-sea- 
man's '  certificate.  If  he  had,  I  could  have 
sailed  on  this  steamer  for  nothing.  That's  the 
kind  of  a  man  he  is." 

It  was  the  first  I  had  heard  of  the  brown- 
stone   boy's  being  a  distressed  seaman, — or  a 


2  THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY. 

seaman  at  all,  for  that  matter.     He  did   not 
look  it  in  the  least. 

We  had  made  a  long  voyage  together  from 
the  tropics.  My  companion  had  generally  ap- 
peared on  deck  in  pajamas,  claiming  that  this 
was  the  only  rational  costume  for  such  a  cli- 
mate. And  on  a  succession  of  hot  days,  when 
the  very  wind  was  hot,  and  blew  the  fumes  of 
the  smoke-funnels  directly  back  into  our  faces, 
his  claim  was  not  without  a  certain  amount  of 
reason.  Again  he  would  appear  in  a  ragged, 
greasy  old  jacket,  a  bad  hat,  slouchy  carpet 
slippers,  and  quite  innocent  of  shirt-collar, 
which  was  much  less  satisfactorily  accounted  for. 
His  comings  on  deck  were  of  a  mysterious, 
periodic  sort.  The  long  intervals  between 
them  we  inclined  to  ascribe  to  sea-sickness. 
He  had  two  different  manners.  At  one  time 
he  would  hang  upon  the  outskirts  of  the  groups, 
listening  with  an  air  of  exaggerated  reverence 
to  every  word  let  fall.  Then  again  he  would  ex- 
hibit a  decidedly  hilarious  flow  of  spirits,  bestir 
himself  to  start  the  game  of  shuffle-board,  intro- 
duce people  to  each  other  who  were  already 
well   acquainted,  and    engage   in   loud,  warm 


THE   BROWN-STONE  BOY.  3 

controversy  with  any  that  would  argue  with 
him.  His  favorite  reproach  to  opponents, 
as  to  the  consul,  was  that  of  fossilism  and  old- 
fogyism.  To  be  behind  the  age,  in  his  view, 
seemed  the  fault  above  all  others  most  deserv- 
ing of  reprobation. 

He  was,  let  us  say,  twenty-four  years  of  age  ; 
he  had  a  certain  plump,  still  boyish  aspect, 
and  his  features  in  general  were  good,  but 
coarse  as  from  dissipation.  His  eyes  were 
heavy,  and  he  had  a  fixed  way  of  smiling,  at 
times,  which  seemed  half  maudlin,  and  turned 
out  to  be  really  so. 

The  object  of  our  discussion  just  now  was  a 
pompous  little  man,  who  was  in  the  habit  of 
strutting  up  and  down  the  deck,  with  his 
hands  behind  him,  keeping  very  much  to  him- 
self. 

"  Ah,  you  were  a  distressed  seaman,  then  ? 
Was  it  among  the  Islands  you  were  wrecked  ?  " 
I  inquired.  The  revelation  lent  my  casual 
new  acquaintance  a  picturesqueness  he  had 
not  before  possessed. 

"  No,  I  never  was  wrecked.  'Most  every- 
thing else  has  happened  to  me,  but  I  never 


4  THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY. 

was  wrecked,"  he  replied.  "  I  wasn't  a  rea- 
man  ;  I  was  busted — in  business." 

"  All,  in  business  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  a  consul-general  needn't  look  so 
close,  need  he?  He's  got, a  right  to  draw  off 
them  certificates  and  pass  you  home,  if  he 
wants  to.  What's  he  good  for,  if  he  don't  do 
it  ?  He  knew  all  about  me — I  told  him.  My 
family  lives  in  New  York, — the  old  lady's  well 
known.  We're  way  up — high-toned.  We've 
got  a  four-story,  high-stoop  house  on  West 
Blank  Street,  close  to  the  Avenue. — I  ain't  no 
slouch:    I'm  a  brown-stone  boy,  I  am." 

Ah,  he  was  a  brown-stone  boy ;  that  was  it  ? 
This  description  of  himself — from  the  brown- 
stone  houses  that  form  the  prosperous  and 
fashionable  quarter  of  New  York, — he  repeated 
more  than  once,  and  by  it,  better  than  his  own 
name,  I  have  ever  since  remembered  him. 

"  He  wouldn't  give  me  a  certificate,  this  old 
consul  wouldn't.  He  ought  to  have  associated 
with  Methuselah. — So  I  had  to  play  it  fine,  and 
stow  away  on  the  steamer  on  my  own  account." 

This  was  a  new  light  on  the  case.  Though 
the  brown-stone  boy  was  avowedly  far  from  an 


THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY.  5 

exemplary  companion,  I  heard  his  story  with 
involuntary  entertainment.  His  talk  was  char- 
acterized by  a  peculiar  slang  and  intonation 
not  found  in  just  that  form  anywhere  but  in 
New  York,  and ,  there  among  its  reprobate 
classes.  If  he  were  of  superior  station,  he  had 
thoroughly  adapted  himself  to  the  manners  of 
strata  far  lower  down.  It  was  reprehensible, 
no  doubt,  but,  after  long  hearing  only  foreign 
tongues,  it  had  a  certain  racy  and  almost  pat- 
riotic flavor.  The  brown-stone  boy  had,  too, 
while  recounting  his  misdeeds,  a  way  of  inter- 
larding them  with  profuse  apologies,  as  if  these 
follies  and  errors  of  youth  were  now  wholly  at 
an  end.  * 

"  Well,  that's  all  over,  now  ;  that's  donefor," 
he  would  say.  "  I'm  not  going  back  to  it, 
either,  you  can  bet  your  dear  life." 

"  I  walked  aboard  as  bold  as  brass,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  and  said  nothing  to  nobody.  Of 
course  I  had  to  give  it  away  to  the  purser  when 
he  came  'round  after  the  tickets,  but  by  that 
time  we  were  far  out  to  sea.  Well,  if  you  had 
seen  that  man  dance  and  swear  !  I  thought  I 
had  heard  some  swearing  before,  but — well,  all 


6  THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY. 

right !  He  grabbed  me  and  called  some  men, 
and  I  thought  they  were  going  to  fire  me  over- 
board at  once.  Then  he  called  the  captain, 
and  the  captain  he  danced.  They  sent  for  a 
lot  more,  and  they  all  danced.  It  was  a  holy 
circus,  you  better  believe.  I  told  'em  all  the 
yarns  I  could  think  of,  and  talked  'em  deaf, 
dumb,  and  blind." 

"  What  did  you  tell  them  ?" 

"  I  said  the  consul-general  had  promised  me 
a  distressed  seaman's  certificate,  and  forgot  to 
■give  it  to  me.  But  what  did  they  do  but  walk 
this  here  fellow  right  up  to  me.  He  was  mak- 
ing the  voyage,  too,  without  my  knowing  it. 
That  spoiled  the  racket,  there  wasn't  much  use 
trying,  but  I  told  'em  next  I  had  lost  my 
pocket-book,  with  my  ticket  in  it.  Then  I  told 
'em  the  parties  in  whose  sugar  warehouse  I 
used  to  work  said  I  could  come  aboard  and 
have  a  passage  any  time  I  wanted  to,  because 
they  had  an  interest  in  the  line.  I  told  'em  I 
was  down  sick  of  a  ragin'  fever,  and  had  to  get 
away ;  told  'em  who  my  family  was ;  told  'em 
I'd  see  they  was  paid  as  soon  as  I  got  back  to  the 
United  States  of  America.  But  it  was  all  no  use." 


THE  hkOWN-STONE  BOY.  7 

"  But  they  did  not  throw  you  overboard,  it 
seems  ?  " 

"  No,  nor  they  didn't  put  me  ashore,  neither, 
though  they  swore  they  were  goin'  to.  The 
captain  would  have  me  up  every  few  days,  and 
say,  *  It  won't  do,  you  know ;  it  won't  do. 
We've  got  to  put  you  off  at  the  first  landin'.' 
But  they  didn't  do  it.  I  suppose  they  got 
satisfied  because  I  belong  to  one  of  the  first 
families,"  he  said,  complacently.  "  They  gave 
me  a  place  down  by  the  furnace-room,  to  sleep, 
— 'cause  there  wasn't  room  in  the  cabin — see  ?" 
He  laid  a  finger  beside  his  nose,  with  a  humor- 
ous leer.  "  You  don't  wonder  now  I  was  a 
little  backward  sometimes  in  comin'  round 
where  you  folks  was,  do  you  ?  I  had  to  pawn 
all  my  clothes  before  comin'  aboard." 

This  was  quite  a  different  account  of'  his 
pajamas  from  that  of  a  luxurious  adaption  to 
circumstances,  before  advanced.  It  was  but 
natural,  after  such  a  confidence,  that  he  should 
go  on  to  give  me  some  account  of  his  doings 
in  the  Islands,  previous  to  embarkation. 

"  It  was  family  influence  that  first  took  me 
down  there,"  he  said.     "  My  father  died  when 


a  THE   BROiVN-S-lONE  BOY. 

1  was  a  small  kid,  and  I  never  saw  much  of 
him.  But  the  old  lady  she  had  lots  of  influ- 
ence, all  the  same.  So  when  I  had  to  get  out 
of  New  York, — I  had  to  get  away  from  New 
York,  for  certain  reasons  "  (he  favored  me  with 
one  of  his  fixed  smiles,  in  which  it  was  evident 
that  these  reasons  were  of  a  disreputable  sort) 
— '*  the  old  lady  spoke  to  some  friends  of  hers, 
for  a  place  down  in  the  Islands,  in  a  sugar 
warehouse.  There  wasn't  much  to  do,  and  I 
was  easy-going  and  didn't  do  even  that.  I 
used  to  draw  my  little  hundred  dollars  a  month, 
and  write  home  to  the  old  lady  that  I  was 
saving  it,  and  getting  to  be  a  regular  Vander- 
bilt.  I  wasn't,  though,  all  the  same.  One  day 
the  superintendent  came  along  and  found  me 
asleep  on  a  convenient  pile  of  coffee-sacks. 

"  '  Are  you  down  here  for  your  health  ?  '  he 
says,  very  mad  and  stiff. 

"  '  I  don't  know  as  I  am,'  I  says.  *  What's 
the  matter  with  you  ?  '  giving  him  back  a  lot 
of  impudence. 

"Well,  the  shipping-book  hadn't  been  at- 
tended to  for  a  couple  of  weeks,  and  a  memor- 
andum  of  hogsheads  he  wanted   couldn't   be 


THE  BKOWN-SIVNE  BOY.  9 

found  nowhere.  What  with  that  and  my  back 
talk,  he  fired  me  out  entirely.  I  didn't  care, 
as  long  as  my  money  lasted  ;  but  the  worst  of 
it  was  after  that  was  gone  the  old  skeesix 
wouldn't  give  me  back  the  place,  and  I  h'ad  to 
shift  for  myself.  Jobs  ain't  very  plenty  in  the 
Islands,  and  I  couldn't  afford  to  let  the  old 
lady  know  what  had  happened  to  me,  either. 
It  was  a  kind  of  last  chance,  her  sendin'  me 
down  there.  I'd  been  into  various  matters  and 
things  before,  you  see.  Nor  I  couldn't  playoff 
the  invalid  dodge  on  her  any  more  ;  I'd  pretty 
much  run  through  that,  too." 

My  brown-stone  friend  was  apparently  so 
used  to  being  taken  for  an  out-and-out  scape- 
grace, that  he  would  be  at  no  pains  to  give 
himself  a  character  and  assume  a  virtue,  though 
he  had  it  not,  even  under  the  most  favorable 
opportunities. 

It  appeared  that  he  had  next  enlisted,  in  the 
Islands,  as  the  sub-agent  of  a  man  engaged  in 
introducing  American  sewing-machines.  He 
had  been  instructed  in  running  and  repairing 
them,  and,  having  picked  up  by  this  time  con- 
siderable of  the  Spanish  "  lingo,"  had  "traveled 


10  THE  BROWN-STOxWE  BOY. 

around  among  the  good-looking  sefioras  and 
sefioritas,"  with  much  entertainment  to  him- 
self. He  had,  however,  repaired  many  of  the 
machines  in  such  a  way  that  "  a  steam  engine 
could  not  have  run  them  again,"  and  been,  in 
consequence,  deprived  of  his  ofifice  in  disgrace. 
He  had  next  acted  as  sub-agent  for  the  sale  of 
illustrated  Bibles,  sent  down  from  Connecti- 
cut. 

"  They  were  cram-full  of  pictures,"  he  said. 
"The  natives  had  never  seen  any  thing  of  the 
kind  before,  and  it  was  a  big  scheme.  The 
trouble  with  'em  was  they  cost  too  much.  I 
had  to  sell  'em  for  less  than  half-price,  to  make 
my  expenses.  The  boss  agent  was  crazy  over 
it.  I  finally  saw  my  talents  were  not  appre- 
ciated in  the  Islands,  and  the  only  thing  for 
me  to  do  was  to  get  out." 

His  CQmplacent  way  of  taking  me  into  part- 
nership, in  his  peculiar  iniquities,  was  not  com- 
plimentary, but  he  was  impervious  to  reproof. 
He  received  it,  at  best,  only  in  a  very  puzzled 
way. 

We  were  coming  into  port  at  this  time,  and 
set  foot  on  shore  towards  evening.     Much  more 


THE   BROIVIV-STO.VE   BOY.  il 

intimate  acquaintanceships  than  this  are 
jDroken  on  landing  from  steamers,  and  I  sup- 
posed I  had  seen  the  last  of  the  brown-stone 
boy. 

The  next  day,  however,  he  walked  into  my 
hotel,  at  dinner  time,  and  dragging  out  his 
chair,  in  an  easy  way,  joined  me  at  table. 
There  had  been  a  wonderful  change  in  his  ap- 
pearance. He  was  very  well  dressed,  and  in  no 
respect  resembled  the  slovenly  figure  he  had 
been  during  the  voyage. 

"  Yes,  all  ragged  out  new,"  he  said,  follow- 
ing my  involuntary  glance  of  inspection. 
"  Ready-made  of  course,  but  I'll  have  some- 
thing more  lum-tum  than  this,  in  a  few  days. 
The  old  lady's  come  down  with  the  stamps 
again,  see  ?" 

He  reached  forward  comfortably  and  took 
the  bill  of  fare  from  among  the  bottles  of  the 
caster,  gave  his  order  to  the  waiter  in  a  face- 
tious way,  and  went  on  with  his  confidences  to 
me.  I  soon  found  that  I  did  not  enjoy  them  ex- 
clusively :  he  was  of  a  naturally  expansive  dis- 
position, and  amiably  disposed  to  share  them 
with  whoever  would  listen. 


12  THE   BROWN-STONE  BOY. 

"  I  was  up  to  the  post-office,  and  there  wasthe 
money  order  all  ready  waiting  for  me,"  he  said. 
"  I  didn't  hardly  expect  it.  Doubtful  things 
are  pretty  uncertain,  and  you  can't  sometimes 
'most  always  tell :  but  the  new  scheme  has 
worked  like  a  charm.  I  didn't  ask  her  for  any 
thing  to  get  away  from  the  Islands.  I  told 
her  I  had  fallen  in  with  a  party  who  wanted  to 
take  me  into  partnership  in  the  beef-canning 
business.  I  told  her  it  was  the  biggest  thing 
that  had  ever  happened  to  me,  and  I  had  got 
the  place  all  by  my  own  unaided  exertions, 
see?  He  wanted  an  active  young  partner,  I 
said,  and  I  was  going  to  learn  the  business ; 
and  then  we  were  to  put  up  a  factory,  some 
place  where  cattle  were  plenty  and  cheap.  I 
said  I  had  saved  money  of  my  own,  and  all  I 
wanted  was  five  hundred  dollars  more,  to  make 
the  thing  complete.  I  didn't  suppose  the  old 
lady  would  do  it  this  time,  but,  as  I  tell  you,  she 
has  come  to  time  like  a  brick." 

"  And  you  mean  that  there  is  no  beef-canning 
project  ?  " 

"You  bet  your  dear  life  there  is  a  beef- 
canning  project.     That's  just  what  there  is — a 


THE   BROWN- STONE  BOY.  13 

beef-canning  project.  I'm  going  to  learn  the 
business — see  ?  There's  factories  here  where 
they  carry  it  on,  and  I'm  going  around  and 
look  for  a  place.  Yes,  sir ;  you'll  see  me  with 
my  little  overalls  on  pretty  soon,  chopping  up 
sausage-meat,  or  boiling  down  soap-fat,  or  any 
thing  else  they  want.  I  wont  kick ;  it  don't 
make  any  difference  what  it  is.  I'm  a  worker, 
I  am." 

"  And  the  partner  ? "  I  asked  in  surprise, 
half  trusting  to  his  emphasis. 

He  looked  at  me  with  a  compassionate 
smile. 

"  That  was  only  a  blind  for  the  old  lady,"  he 
said  ;  "  I  had  to  do  it.  But  now  it's  over,  I've 
reformed. — A  fellow  hadn't  ought  to  be  spout- 
ing his  clothes,  beating  his  board-bills  and  all 
that,  you  know,"  he  added  philosophically.  "  I 
had  a  good  mother ;  that's  what  always  brings 
me  round  all  right.  A  mother's  prayers  is 
what  you  want  every  time." 

There  was  a  dangerous  levity  in  this,  and 
yet  a  certain  air  of  sincerity,  too.  The  method 
might  have  been  only  his  ideal  of  a  manly  way 
of  expressing  himself. 


14  THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  there  was  any  quan- 
tity of  will-power  about  me,  still,"  he  said.  "  I 
had  a  brother  once  with  a  will-power — Lord, 
what  a  will-power  he  did  have  !  " 

His  platitudes  on  goodness  and  the  exem- 
plary influence  of  his  mother — whose  heart,  it 
could  plainly  be  seen,  this  young  reprobate 
must  often  have  wrung — were  a  curious  glib 
parody  of  sermons  we  have  heard  on  the  ill- 
fated  course  of  the  prodigal.  He  had  not  in 
the  least  a  repentant  air,  yet  he  continually 
gave  himself  out  at  great  length  as  one  who 
had  at  last  seen  the  error  of  his  ways,  and 
chosen  the  better  part. 

"  I'll  give  you  the  whole  business  straight," 
he  said,  treating  further  of  his  project.  "  It's 
the  biggest  scheme  out.  I've  had  it  on  the 
brain  for  some  time.  I  heard  parties  talk  of  it 
in  the  Islands.  You  snake  your  cattle  right 
up  to  the  factory,  and  run  'em  through  the 
canning  machines  before  they  know  where  they 
are.  The  profits  come  in  in  having  'em  right 
on  the  ground  where  the  factory  is,  instead  of 
'way  off,  with  big  bills  to  pay,  first  for  trans- 
portin'  the  stock,  and  then  for  sendin'  away 


THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY.  1 5 

the  Stuff.  Why,  the  hides  and  horns  alone  '11 
more  than  pay  all  expenses.  I  anticipate  four 
hundred  per  cent,  profit  the  first  year.  Any- 
body '11  put  up  money  with  me,  as  soon  as  I've 
learned  the  business.  I  wouldn't  wonder  if 
the  old  lady  herself  would,  as  soon  as  she  knew 
I  was  actually  on  the  ground.  Say !  you  A 
make  a  first-rate  partner.  I  don't  mind  givin' 
you  an  interest,"  with  frank  bon  earner aderie. 
"  It's  a  big  thing,  now,  I  tell  you.  Let's  you 
and  I  go  into  it." 

I  declined  the  handsome  offer.  Engagements 
prevented  me  from  entering  into  any  other 
business  enterprises  at  present.  It  was  now 
Friday,  and  the  brown-stone  boy  promised  to 
begin  his  labors  on  the  following  Monday 
morning. 

'•  I  shan't  give  it  away  at  the  factory  what 
I'm  up  to,  either,"  he  said.  "  I'll  go  in  just  as 
a  common  hand.  I'll  stay  a  week,  two  weeks, 
or  whatever  time  it  takes  to  learn  the  whole 
racket.  And  you  won't  hear  a  squeal  out  of 
me,  not  a  squeal  nor  a  kick,  no  sir,"  he  con- 
cluded, in  a  large,  magnanimous*  way. 

I  said  nothing  to  dash  his  sanguine  estimate 


l6  THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY. 

of  the  obstacles  before  him.  It  so  happened 
that  I  was  detained  for  a  considerable  time  at 
the  port  where  we  had  landed,  and  saw  much 
more  of  my  brown-stone  friend  than  I  had  ex- 
pected. I  met  him  on  the  Monday  when  he 
was  to  have  gone  to  work,  strolling  about  in  a 
leisurely  fashion. 

"They  gave  me  the  cold  bluff  up  there; 
that's  why  I  ain't  workin',"  he  explained. 

"  How  was  that  ?  " 

"  I  went  and  applied  for  a  job.  They  said 
they  didn't  want  me.  Then  I  tried  palaverin' ; 
told  'em  what  was  up,  how  I  only  wanted  to 
learn  the  business,  and  was  willing  to  work  for 
nothing.  They  called  me  too  fresh,  and  asked 
if  I  took  'em  for  flats  and  thought  they  was 
goin'  to  give  away  the  secrets  of  the  trade." 

Still  he  was  not  greatly  depressed  at  his 
rebuff. 

"  There's  two  more  places,"  he  said.  "  I'll 
tackle  one  to-morrow,  and  the  other  the  day 
after.  They  ain't  so  big  as  the  first  one,  but 
they'll  do  well  enough.  All  I  want  is  just  to 
learn  the  business,  see  ?  " 

The  next  day  he  did  not  go,  being  occupied,. 


THE  BROWN-STONE    BOY.  I? 

as  he  said,  in  changing  his  hotel.  He  had 
choosen  a  cheaper  one,  to  save  his  money,  an 
object  that  seemed  highly  commendable.  This 
took,  however,  a  couple  of  days  instead  of  one. 
Then  occurred  a  national  holiday,  and  next  he 
was  occupied  with  his  tailor.  He  appeared  to 
feel  under  some  sort  of  obligation  at  first  to 
report  progress  to  me,  but  this  was  soon 
abandoned.  I  heard  no  more  of  his  attempts 
to  procure  employment  at  the  places  indicated, 
further  than  vague  denunciations  of  their  pro- 
prietors, and  statements  that  the  business  was 
overdone,  and  wasn't  "  what  it  was  cracked  up  to 
be,  any  way."  I  could  not  judge  whether  he 
had  tried  and  failed,  or  arrived  at  these  con 
elusions  only  on  independent  grounds. 

Once,  while  in  the  porch  of  the  hotel,  we 
saw  a  group  of  rough  hobbledehoys  teasing  an 
old  man,  a  foreigner  and  vender  of  small  wares, 
in  the  street. 

"  That  was  me  ;  that's  it ;  that  was  my  style 
too!  I  used  to  be  a  holy  terror!"  cried  the 
brown-stone  boy,  slapping  his  thigh  with  an  ani- 
mated delight  at  the  spectacle.  The  circum- 
stance was  the  starting-point  of  a  new  train  of 


1 8  THE  BROWN- STONE  BOY. 

reminiscence,  which,  in  time,  comprised  most 
of  the  adventures  of  his  life. 

"  I  used  to  belong  to  the  old  West  Blank 
Street  and  Tenth  Avenue  gang,"  he  said. 
"  Did  you  ever  belong  to  that  gang  ?  " 

"  No,  I  never  belonged  to  that  gang,"  I 
replied  as  calmly  as  possible. 

"  You've  heard  tell  of  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  have  heard  of  it." 

I  had  heard  at  least  of  similar  groups  of  young 
ruffians,  who  infested  certain  streets,  made  life 
a  burden  to  the  residents  therein,  and  were  the 
sworn  enemies  of  the  police.  A  graduate  of 
one  of  them,  aged  nineteen,  was  at  that  very 
time  lying  in  the  Tombs  under  sentence  of. 
death  for  murder,  in  connection  with  a  heinous 
robbery.  He  proclaimed  himself  "  a  tough," 
and  looked  with  pride  upon  his  exploit,  as  a 
sort  of  method  of  winning  his  spurs.  The 
gang  waylaid  children,  if  well  dressed,  or  sent 
with  money  to  pay  bills  or  make  purchases, 
dragged  them  into  lumber-yards  and  the  like, 
and  plundered  them.  But  I  had  not  thought 
that  these  were  in  any  degree  recruited  from 
respectable  and  wealthy  families, 


THE   BROWN-STONE  BOY.  19 

"  Oh,  they  got  no  prejudice  against  fannily," 
he  responded,  cavalierly.  "What  they  want 
is  the  feller  that  can  make  the  liveliest  racket  ; 
they  don't  mind  his  bringin'  up." 

"And  were  there  many  who  were  well  off?  " 
It  was  interesting  to  hear  of  such  a   band 
from  the  inside  point  of  view. 

"  Well,  Patsy  Bogan's  father  was  a  black- 
smith, Jimmy  Gunnison's  drove  a  truck,  and 
''Big  Ed '  White's  old  man  kept  a  saloon.  Big 
Ed  has  fought  a  prize-fight  since.  Billy  Bol- 
ton's folks,  though,  was  high-toned,  the  same  as 
mine, — only  more  so.  Jever  hear  of  Billy's 
game  that  got  him  nipped  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  recollect  hearing  of  it." 
"  His  father  was  a  church  deacon, — bang-up 
respectable.  They  lived  on  Thirty-eighth 
Street,  in  one  of  the  swellest  houses.  They  got 
Billy  a  kind  of  confidential  place  in  a  broker's 
office  down  town,  after  a  while,  'cause  he 
wouldn't  go  to  school.  One  afternoon  the 
broker  gave  Billy  a  package  of  bills,  about  ten 
thousand  dollars,  to  put  away  in  the  safe. 
Billy  shoved  the  money  into  his  coat,  right 
there  under  the  broker's  nose,  slammed  up  the 


20  THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY. 

safe,  walked  off,  and  came  down  next  morning 
as  bold  as  brass.  He  was  collared,  though. 
They  proved  it  on  him,  and  sent  him  up  to  the 
penitentiary  for  seven  years.  He  isn't  out  yet. 
But  he  didn't  give  'em  back  the  money,  and 
he'll  have  it  to  spend  when  he  gets  out." 

The  narrator  showed  little  emotion  at  this 
story  but  amusement,  with  perhaps  a  trace  of 
envy. 

"  Of  course  we  didn't  go  in  as  heavy  as  that. 
That  was  after  he  left  the  gang.  We  used  to 
generally  make  it  lively  for  the  stores  on  our 
beat ;  snatch  fruit,  tip  over  barrels,  bother 
the  customers  as  they  passed  in  and  out,  and 
so  on.  One  day  I  was  standing  side  of  old 
Zumpt's  show-case, — Zumpt  was  a  shoemaker, 
you  know, — it  was  full  of  boots  and  shoes,  fancy 
styles  and  ail  that.  The  other  youths  bounced 
me  into  it,  smashing  the  glass  all  to  flinders. 
Out  comes  old  Zumpt,  a-boomin'. 

"' Who  done  it  ?  who  done  it?'  he  says,  wild. 

"'I  don't  know  'em,'  I  says,  playin'  the 
innocent  dodge  ;  'all  I  know  is,  I  want  a  ambu- 
lance.' He  tears  up  the  street  after  'em,  and  I 
dodges  'round  the  corner." 


THE  BROWxY-STOME  BOY.  21 

"  Did  the  cruelty  of  destroying  the  property 
of  a  poor,  hard-working  man,  putting  him  to 
such  expense  and  trouble,  never  occur  to  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  it  was  pretty  rough,  that's  so.  I  can 
see  it  now,  looking  back.  Besides,  I  got  a  cut 
across  the  thumb  that  lasted  me  a  couple  of 
months." 

"  Wouldn't  the  boys  refuse  to  associate  with 
a  companion  if  they  knew  he  had  actually 
stolen  money  ?  " 

"  Well,  no,  no,  they  wouldn't  exactly  refuse 
to  associate  with  him,"  he  replied  judicially. 
"  The  fact  is,  they  had  to  get  money  some  way. 
They  weren't  provided  liberally  from  home. 
Their  folks,  you  see,  most  generally  didn't 
approve  of  'em.  Why,  I  recollect,  myself," — 
he  started  off  with  a  new  gusto, — "  havin'  to 
sell  all  the  hats  and  umbrellas  on  our  hall-rack, 
once,  to  get  funds  to  go  and  see  Mazeppa,  at 
the  old  Bowery  theatre." 

No  doubt  I  seemed  duly  impressed  with  the 
painful  necessity  for  this  measure,  for  the 
further  details  were  at  once  forthcoming. 

"  There  was  an  old  party  that  went  through 
the  street  every  afternoon.     I  used  to  call  him 


2  2  THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY. 

Yowlrigs.  That  was  the  way  he  said  *  Any 
old  rags?  any  old  rags?*  see?  Sometimes 
it  was,  '  Eggs  bottled  ! '  '  eggs  bottled  ?  ' 
instead  of  *  Rags,  bottles  ! '  See  ?  I  called 
Yowlrigs  in,  one  day  when  the  old  lady  was  out, 
and  made  the  trade.  Some  of  the  servants 
saw  him  leaving,  and  they  peached.  But  I  lit 
out  on  time,  you  bet.  I  had  it  all  arranged,  so 
I  could  sleep  in  an  engine-house,  once  in  a 
while." 

"  But  you  had  to  go  back  finally?  " 
"  Yes ;  but  I  could  always  scare  the  old 
lady  by  staying  away  long  enough ;  that's 
where  I  had  the  inside  track.  The  old  lady 
was  pretty  soft.  My  drinking  was  what  riled 
her  at  last." 

"  Ah,  drinking  ?  The  gang  drank  too  ?  " 
"  What  the  gang  didn't  do  wasn't  worth 
doing.  I  got  as  drunk  as  a  boiled  owl  the  day 
I  was  fourteen  years  old.  A  policeman  brought 
me  home  on  his  back  at  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  Whiskey  done  it ;  I'd  never  took 
anything  but  beer  before  that.  One  of  the 
kids  borrowed  some  money  from  his  father's 
till,  and  nothing  would  do  but  we  must  all  take 


THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY.  23 

whiskey,  and  get  tight.  Then  there  was  a 
circus,  and  don't  you  forget  it —  I  got  in  the 
way  of  drinking  then,  and  have  kind  of  kept  up 
ever  since.  You  might  have  noticed  I  was  full 
on  the  steamer  now  and  then. — But  that's  all 
over  now.  It  was  for  something  of  that  kind, 
the  old  lady  finally  fired  me.  No,  I  don't 
know  as  it  was,  either.  I've  forgotten  now 
just  exactly  what  it  was  for,"  slightly  scratch- 
ing his  head. 

"  She  sent  you  away,  then  ?  She  could  not 
stand  you  ?     I  hardly  wonder  at  it. ' 

He  showed  no  offense  at  unfavorable  mo- 
ments. 

"She  had  to  do  so,  you  know,  she  had  to  do 
it.  I  don't  say  nothing  against  her.  She 
used  to  come  up  to  my  room  nights,  or  early  in 
the  morning,  in  her  wrapper,  and  say  prayers 
over  me.  She  used  to  tell  what  big  things  my 
father  did  and  how  I  ought  to  be  worthy  of 
him,  and  all  that.  Sometimes  I  used  to  prom- 
ise to  make  a  try,  but  it  never  seemed  to 
amount  to  anything.  So  there  she  was,  one 
morning — I  wish  I  could  think  now  exactly 
what  it  was  for — standing  by  me  like  a  ghost — 


24  THE   BROWN-STONE  BOY. 

waving  hands — handkerchief  to  eyes — high 
tragedy  business,  see  ?  I'd  finally  got  to  go. 
She  asked  me  how  much  money  I  wanted,  to 
take  me  away  where  she'd  never  hear  of  me 
again  till  she  could  hear  something  that  wasn't 
a  disgrace  and  shame.  I  was  kind  of  dazed  on 
account  of  its  being  so  early  in  the  morning 
and  the  racket  over  night,  and  I  named  a  sum. 
I  might  just  as  well  have  had  twice  as  much, 
but  we  can't  always  tell  how  sharp  to  be.  I 
took  another  nap,  and  when  I  woke  up  again, 
about  nine  o'clock,  there  was  the  money  and  a 
note  on  the  pillow  beside  me.  The  old  lady 
wasn't  goin*  to  see  me  any  more,  but  when  I 
went  down  the  steps  I  bet  she  was  behind  the 
blinds,  cryin',  all  the  same." 

Alas  and  alas,  for  the  poor  old  lady  ! 

"  I  didn't  clear  out  altogether  just  then," 
the  scapegrace  continued.  "  Not  so  green. 
I  waited  till  I'd  spent  that  money,  and  then 
went  back  after  more.  '  If  you  really  want  to 
get  rid  of  me,'  I  said,  '  give  me  five  hundred 
dollars,  and  I'll  go.'  She  planked  it  down,  and 
I  went." 

The  frankness  of  these  confessions  seemed 


THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY.  25 

incredible.  Perhaps  he  saw  that  I  marveled, 
for  he  explained  at  once  : 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  telling  you  some  of  this 
stuff,  for  if  you  was  to  go  back  to  New  York 
and  inquire  about  me  you'd  hear  a  dozen  times 
worse.  That's  one  of  the  advantages  of  having 
a  bad  character.  Nobody  can  do  me  any 
hurt. — But  that's  all  over  now.  I  had  a  good 
mother,  see  ?  There  was  no  discount  on  her. 
That's  what's  always  brought  me  'round  all 
right." 

It  was  difficult  to  see  in  what  the  brown-stone 
boy  was  so  much  better  than  formerly,  since  he 
told  of  his  misdeeds — many  more,  and  more 
serious  ones,  too,  than  here  set  down — with  the 
utter  flippancy  described  ;  but  one  could  only 
hopefully  take  him  at  his  word.  He  had  a 
plausible,  ingratiating  way  with  him.  He 
could  flatter  by  an  artful  air  of  respect  and 
deference  as  to  superior  wisdom,  and  he  could 
amuse  by  many  drolleries.  He  had  the  social 
talents,  skill  at  cards  and  billiards,  a  knack  at 
music,  and  the  like,  with  the  aid  of  which  his 
brief  successes  were  accomplished. 

He  was  now  very  fashionably  dressed.     He 


26  THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY. 

had  evidently  not  spared  money,  and  his 
tailor  had  made  a  very  complete  thing  of  it. 
One  day  he  proposed  to  hire  an  expensive 
livery-team  and  take  me  for  a  drive  in  the  park. 
I  strenuously  opposed  this  as  contrary  to  his 
newly  devised  plans  of  economy  and  reform. 
We  compromised  by  partly  walking  and  then 
taking  an  open  horse-car.  We  passed  the  city 
hospital,  a  structure  of  dingy,  yellow  brick,  on 
a  cold,  windy-looking  hill.  An  ambulance  was 
drawn  up  at  the  gate,  awd  from  it  a  pale  and 
wasted  invalid  was  being  taken  out  on  a 
stretcher.  My  brown-stone  boy  tipped  me  a 
wink,  as  if  the  joke  were  decidedly  on  this 
poor  invalid,  and  it  were  a  situation  no  more 
to  be  expected  for  himself  than  if  he  belonged 
to  a  different  order  of  beings. 

The  gatekeeper  superintending  the  transfer 
said  to  us,  as  we  paused  a  moment  to  look  on : 

"  This  man  was  once  a  big  actor.  Drink 
brought  him  to  this." 

"  Plenty  o'  lodgin's  to  let  in,  still,  the  old 
shebang?"  the  brown-stone  boy  inquired,  face- 
tiously. 

"  A   fine  suit  up    where  ye  see  them  open 


THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY.  27 

windys,"  returned  the  porter,  "or  in  the  cot- 
tage beyant,"  indicating  a  low  edifice  in  a 
corner  of  the  yard.  "  We'll  fit  ye  out  when 
ye'll  be  needin'  them." 

"  Put  me  in  a  private  bath,  'lectric  bells,  and 
the  rest  of  the  modern  conveniences,  and  I'll 
see  you  later,"  said  the  brown-stone  boy. 

"  That  ain't  no  cottage !  "  cried  an  irrepressi- 
ble gamin  now  running  up  ;  "  that's  the  morgue. 
Don't  I  be  playin'  there  every  day?  And  them 
windys  is  the  room  where  the  doctors  grinds 
up  the  dead  bodies  to  make  medicine  of." 

The  porter  made  a  good-natured  pass  at  the 
gamin,  which  the  latter  evaded  by  ducking  his 
head.  "  He's  a  young  foundlin'  that's  got 
a  job  here,"  said  the  porter.  "  He  has  gab 
enough  for  twenty." 

"  This  is  a  boss  place,  you  bet.  I've  got  a 
job  clearin'  the  dinner-tables.  We  have  fun 
stealin'  puddin',  and  everything.  Give  a  feller 
a  dime,  will  yer?"  went  on  the  urchin. 
"  A — w,  ye  might ! " 

It  was  but  a  slight  circumstance,  this  brief 
stop  at  the  hospital,  but  it  was  to  impress  itself 
later  on  by  serious  events  of  which  none  of 


28  THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY. 

US  could  have  had  then  the  least  expecta- 
tion. 

"  Actor,  was  he  ?  I've  been  an  actor  myself," 
said  the  brown-stone  boy,  as  we  moved  off. 
"  Wonder  if  that  had  anything  to  do  with 
breakin'  me  up  ?  I  went  away  with  a  theatre 
company  when  I  left  home,  the  time  I  was 
tellin'  you  of,  and  stayed  with  'em  most  a 
year.  It  ain't  what  it's  cracked  up  to  be  ;  it's 
hard  lines  and  poor  pay.  I  was  just  gettin' 
ready  to  come  out  in  leadin'  parts,  when  the 
company  failed.  I  got  the  old  lady  to  put  up 
for  me.  I'd  been  away  from  home  so  long 
that  she  was  ready  to,  then,  and  she  thought 
some  occupation  was  better  than  none.  I 
handed  over  the  funds  to  the  manager,  and  he 
was  going  to  back  me  and  see  me  through,  and 
give  me  a  salary  of  twenty-five  dollars  a  week. 
I  was  going  to  be  a  juvenile.  '  What  is  a 
juvenile  ? '  Why,  for  instance,  if  you  was  to 
play  Richard,  I'd  play  Richmond  ;  or  if  you 
was  Hamlet,  I'd  be  Laertes,  see.** — that's 
juvenile. 

"  But  the  company  busted,  and  I  didn't  do 
my  actin',  nor  get  my  money  back  either.     I 


THE  BROWN-STONE   BOY.  29 

was  stranded  in  a  small  Iowa  town.  First  we 
tried  a  little  variety-show ;  th^n  I  got  to  bein' 
a  waiter  in  the  hotel.  I  couldn't  stand  that 
but  a  few  days,  so  I  got  a  job  canvassing  for 
advertisements  for  the  local  paper.  Then  I 
traveled  with  a  lightning-rod  man.  That  is 
what  made  me  so  handy  with  the  sewing- 
machines  and  Bibles  down  in  the  Islands. 
After  a  while  I  raised  money  enough  to  get 
away  to  a  city,  and  started  a  kind  of  paper  of 
my  own.  It  contained  the  theatre  programmes, 
and  was  to  be  filled  up  with  payin'  advertising 
around  the  margins — Only  it  wasn't.  I  fell  in 
with  a  young  lawyer,  and  we  got  up  a  Collec- 
tion Agency  for  the  Northwest,  but  we  had  to 
keep  all  we  collected  for  expenses,  and  the  cli- 
ents wasn't  satisfied.  We  had  a  Mining  and 
Town-Site  Company  afterwards  in  Idaho; 
but  the  bottom  soon  dropped  out  of  that. 

"  I  never  used  to  let  it  cost  me  much  for 
travelin'  and  hotel  expenses  those  times. 
Railroads  and  landlords  fatten  on  the  hard 
earnin's  of  the  people,  any  way,  and  I  gen- 
erally looked  on  what  I  could  beat  'em  out 
of  as  so  much  clear  gain. — But  that's  all  over 


30  THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY. 

now. — I  s'pose  I'd  been  away  from  home  about 
three  years  before  I  turned  up  in  New  York 
again.  I'd  come  to  understand  what  the  com- 
fort of  a  home  was,  by  that  time,  you'd  better 
believe.  I  swore  off  drinking  and  smoking,  cut 
the  old  gang  dead,  turned  over  an  entirely  new 
leaf,  and  was  ready  to  tackle  regular  busi- 
ness. " 

"And    was    your    mother    pleased    to    see 

?f  > 

"  Pleased  is  no  name  for  it.  She  was  tickled 
to  death,"  complacently.  "The  next  thing 
was  to  consider  my  future.  The  old  lady  was 
amitious,  and  wanted  me  to  do  big  things. 
My  father,  he'd  been  a  kind  of  a  celebrity  ;  he 
was  a  lawyer,  and  may  be  you've  heard  of 
some  of  his  writin's,  too?  She  would  like  me 
to  follow  in  his  footsteps.  I  thought  it  over 
a  few  minutes,  and  then  I  says,  *  I'll  go  on  the 
lecture  platform.' 

"  '  Oh,  my  dear,'  she  says,  '  I'm  afraid  you 
can't.' 

"Til  show  you  whether  I  can  or  not,' I 
says.  '  Lecturin'  is  different  from  writin.* 
You  get  your  little  lecture  done,  and  go  all 


THE  BROWN- STONE  BOY.  31 

over  the  country  deliverin'  it,  and  rakin'  in  the 
money.  But  when  you've  written  one  thing, 
you've  just  got  to  go  to  work  and  write 
another.  My  actin*  and  travelin'  experience  '11 
come  in.  You  let  me  go  ahead,  and  I'll  be  a 
bigger  man  than  old  Grant.' 

"  So  I  pitches  in.  I  knew  thinkin'  wasn't 
my  best  hold,  and  I'd  have  to  piece  it  out  with 
delivery";  he  sawed  the  air  in  an  explanatory 
way.  "  I  knew  I'd  have  to  take  some  subject 
where  I  could  use  the  Encyclopaedia  pretty 
free ;  and  I  did  use  it,  and  don't  you  forget  it. 
I  called  the  thing  '  The  Perils  of  the  Sea.' 
When  I  got  it  done,  I  took  it  to  a  New  Jersey 
town,  where  the  population  was  mostly  clam- 
diggers,  I  guess.  I  got  the  old  lady  to  put  up 
for  me  to  hire  a  hall,  and  I  delivered  it.  They 
went  wild  over  it.  They'd  never  had  any 
show  in  the  place  before,  I  guess,  and  they 
wanted  me  to  stay  there  all  the  time.  I  paid 
the  local  correspondent  to  telegraph  up  a  few 
lines  of  slush  about  it  to  the  '  Herald.' 
When  I  got  back,  I  takes  the  notices  down  to 
Cooper's  Institute,  and  shows  'em  to  the 
lecture-bureau  man. 


32  THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY. 

"  *  Here,'  I  says,  '  this  is  the  kind  of  hairpin 
I  am.  Now  put  me  in  a  page  of  advertisin' 
in  that  journal  of  yours,  and  hustle  along  your 
engagements ! ' " 

The  brown-stone  boy  always  represented 
himself  as  talking  in  this  off-hand  manner, 
even  upon  the  most  serious  subjects  and  to 
the  gravest  of  persons ;  but  it  is  probable  that 
he  meant  only  the  sense  rather  than  the  actual 
text  of  what  he  said. 

"The  lecture-bureau  man  wanted  twenty- 
five  dollars  for  a  page  in  his  journal,  and  I  got 
it  from  the  old  lady,  and  put  it  up.  Engage- 
ments didn't  come  very  lively  at  first,  but  the 
lecture-bureau  man  says,  '  Lay  low  and  wait. 
You'll  be  all  right.  You  better  pay  me 
twenty-five  dollars  more  for  another  page, 
though,  and  then  you'll  be  doubly  sure.'  " 

He  paused  a  little,  to  admire  in  retro- 
spect the  shrewdness  of  the  lecture-bureau 
man. 

"  In  about  a  month  an  order  did  come.  It 
was  from  Cahokia,  or  Kalamazoo,  or  some 
such  place,  out  West.  They  wanted  me  for 
one  night  only,  at  thirty  dollars  a  night.     The 


THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY.  33 

railroad  fare  and  expenses  footed  up  about  a 
hundred  dollars. " 

He  paused  again,  to  scratch  his  head,  and 
look  at  me  with  an  air  of  comic  perplexity, 
then  went  on : 

"  I  thought  the  rush  had  begun,  and  I  was 
goin'  to  start  out  at  once,  but  the  bureau  man 
he  says,  '  You  better  wait  for  a  few  more 
orders,  so's  to  lay  out  a  rowte,  and  take  'em 
in  all  together.'  So  I  waited  another  month, 
but  there  was  nothin'  else.  The  next  month 
another  order  came — from  Arkansas.  They 
wanted  '  The  Perils  of  the  Sea '  at  Texarkana 
one  night  only.  Then  orders  stopped  comin* 
entirely.  The  lecture-bureau  man  says,  *  If 
you  don't  feel  like  payin'  expenses  to  fill  these 
engagements,  perhaps  I'd  better  arrange  to 
hand  them  over  to  somebody  else?' 

"*I  guess  you  better  had,'  I  says,  and  with 
that  I  quits  the  lecture  platform.  The  next 
thing  I  went  into  was  real  estate.  I  went  in 
an  office  about  three  months,  till  I'd  learnt  the 
business  up  to  the  nines.  Real  estate  ain't  no 
trick ;  anybody  can  do  it. — The  old  lady  fitted 
me  out  handsome  in  an  office  of  my  own, — ' 


34  THE  BROWN-STONE   BOY. 

Pine  Street, — black-walnut  furniture, — gold  let- 
ters on  the  window.  I  put  a  big  advertisement 
in  the  papers — 'City  and  country  property 
for  sale  and  to  rent.  Half  a  million  dollars  to 
loan  on  approved  mortgages,' — and  sat  back 
smoking  cigarettes,  and  waiting  for  customers. 
I  hadn't  a  red  cent  to  loan,  and  not  even  a 
shanty  to  rent.  If  anybody  came  in,  I  was 
going  to  shin  around  among  the  other  agents 
and  get  something,  and  divide  commissions. 
The  first  quarter  nobody  came  in  but  a  Bow- 
ery Dutchman,  who  wanted  to  borrow  ten 
thousand  dollars  on  an  old  rookery  that  wasn't 
worth  a  thousand  ;  you  wouldn't  take  it  for  a 
gift.  The  second  q^uarter  wasn't  quite  so 
good.  Every  night,  mostly,  the  old  lady  used 
to  ask  me  how  much  business  I'd  done  that 
day,  and  how  much  I  was  makin*.  When  a 
third  quarter's  rent  came  due,  the  old  lady 
began  to  kick.  '  I  won't  put  up  another 
copper,'  she  says.  'You  just  sell  the  furniture, 
and  skip  out  of  it.'  " 

These,  again,  could  not  have  been  the  pre- 
cise words,  but  only  the  gist,  of  his  good 
mother's  discourse. 


THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY.  35 

"  But  the  way  my  drug  business  panned  out 
was  even  worse.  I  went  into  wholesale  drugs 
and  dye-stuffs.  There  was  a  young  feller,  that 
I'd  known  fot  some  time,  who  traveled  for  a 
house  in  that  line.  He  told  me  the  customers 
had  all  rather  buy  of  him  than  his  firm.  '  If 
you  and  me  could  go  in  together,  and  take  a 
store,  and  I  had  five  hundred  dollars  for  a 
year's  travelin'  expenses,'  he  says,  *we  could 
make  things  boom.'  I  talked  the  old  lady  into 
it.  We  set  up  in  Pearl  Street  this  time ;  no 
flummery  and  fancy  furniture  now,  but  cob- 
webs, inky  old  desks,  and  big  ledgers, — the 
heavy  solid,  see?  We  scattered  some  empty 
carboys  and  indigo  and  cutch  around.  .  Cutch 
has  an  awful  respectable  look.  We  looked  as 
if  we'd  been  established  forty  years  and  were 
doing  a  business  of  a  million  a  year.  I  was  to 
stay  in  the  office  and  fill  orders,  and  he  was  to 
send  'em  on.  Well,  in  two  months  the  year's 
travelin'  expenses  was  used  up.  Most  of  the 
shipments  we'd  made  was  returned  on  our 
hands,  marked,  *N.  G.' — No  Good.  Some  of 
the  mistakes  was  mine,  but  most  of  'em  his. 
He  was  on  a  steady  spree  the  whole  time, — I 


36  THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY. 

didn't  know  he  was  that  kind  of  a  feller, — and 
I  got  news  at  last  that  he'd  been  lying  drunk 
somewhere  in  Vermont  for  two  weeks;  and 
then  I  closed  up  the  place.  '.One  by  one  the 
roses  fade ' ;  it  beats  all  how  circumstances 
used  to  turn  out  against  me  every  time." 

"  You  do  seem  to  have  had  rather  bad  luck." 
"  Luck  ?  well ! — The  next  thing  I  tried  was 
bein'  a  detective.  I'd  always  had  a  fancy  for 
that  kind  of  business,  and  knowin'  the  ropes 
about  town,  and  havin'  seen  as  much  as  I  had, 
I  thought  I'd  make  a  good  one.  The  old  lady 
did  n't  like  it  at  all.  But  she'd  begun  to  get 
tired  of  putting  up  money  for  me,  and  this 
was  something  that  didn't  take  no  capital.  I 
got  a  place  in  a  detective  agency.  They  set 
me  to  shadowing  a  house  where  some  woman 
lived  whose  husband  wanted  a  '  divorce  with- 
out publicity,'  or  somethin'  that  way.  My 
watch  was  on  nights,  and  most  all  night  too ; 
and  it  was  precious  cold  and  lonesome,  I  can 
tell  you,  hanging  around  them  corners  in  De- 
cember. All  of  a  sudden  the  police  on  the 
beat  grabbed  me  and  run  me  in  for  a  sus- 
picious character.     There  had  been  burglaries 


THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY.  37 

in  the  neighborhood,  and  they  thought,  from 
the  way  I  was  manceuvring.  that  I  was  the 
one  that  done  'em.  They  locked  me  up,  and 
wouldn't  let  me  go  till  I  had  to  explain  what 
I  was  up  to.  The  woman,  she  got  wind  of  it 
and  went  off,  and  the  ofifice  bounced  me  for 
bein'  a  double-dashed  flat.  A  detective  hadn't 
ought  to  give  away  his  racket  to  the  police  nor 
nobody  else,  no  matter  what  happens  to  him, 
see?  YeSy  sir,  I  was  more  broke  up  by  that 
than  most  anything  else  I  can  think  of.  The 
newspaper  reportin'  wasn't  so  bad,  for  I  never 
really  looked  at  that  as  much  in  my  line." 

What  !  a  reporter,  too  ?  Would  the  line  of 
his  occupations  stretch  out  to  the  crack  of 
doom  ? 

"  I  had  a  relation  who  owned  a  newspaper, 
and  he  gave  me  a  job  as  a  local  reporter. 
That  suited  the  old  lady  to  a  T.  She  was  ex- 
pectin*  me  to  be  a  Horace  Greeley  right  away. 
But  if  ever  there  was  a  dry  time  for  news,  that 
was  it.  I  tore  around,  with  my  little  note- 
book ready  and  my  pencil  out,  but  not  a  thing 
happened.  There  wasn't  a  fire,  murder,  colli- 
sion, assault  and  battery, — not  an  accident  of 


3 8  THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY. 

any  kind.  I  boned  the  police  and  coroners,  and 
I  tackled  the  undertakers,  hackmen,  and  omni- 
bus-drivers. If  I  saw  anybody  anywheres  look- 
in'  the  least  excited,  I  grabbed  him,  and  asked 
him  what  was  the  matter.  I  went  up  to  the 
gang  again,  but  even  they  had  quieted  down 
just  then,  and  couldn't  give  me  anything.  You 
might  as  well  have  been  reporting  the  New 
Jerusalem.  I  shoved  one  feller  down  an  area- 
way,  myself,  to  make  an  item  ;  but  of  course  it 
was  too  expensive  to  provide  subjects  that  way. 
After  I'd  been  comin*  in  to  the  office,  every 
day  for  a  month  or  so,  without  a  blessed  thing 
to  show  for  it,  my  relation,  he  says,  kind  o'  sar- 
castic : 

"  *  I  guess  you're  spoilin'  yourself  for  some 
other  profession,  where  you'd  shine.  News- 
paper reportin'  don't  seem  to  be  your  best 
hold.     You  talk  a  walk  ;  we'll  spare  you.' " 

His  record  of  chronic  mishaps  and  miscar- 
riages did  not  end  even  with  this.  But  enough 
has  been  given  to  show  the  irresponsible  view 
and  manner  of  life  of  a  character  of  which  many 
another  prosperous  family  as  well  produces  an 


THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY.  39 

example.  The  poor"  old  lady"  had  stood 
by  him  through  it  all,  paid  in  cash  the  score  of 
his  escapades,  and  paid  more  dearly  yet,  no 
doubt,  in  sad  yearning  and  disappointment  over 
this  graceless  son  of  her  heart.  She  had  had 
her  intervals  of  holding  aloof,  but  even  these 
probably  designed  more  in  a  salutary  spirit  for 
his  improvement  than  out  of  real  sternness.  I 
gathered  that  he  had  left  the  country  for  his 
country's  good,  and  had  done  something  that 
would  make  it  more  than  inconvenient  for  him 
to  return  to  New  York.  But,  again,  he  said 
that  his  mother  wished  him  to  return,  and 
marry  a  pretty  and  virtuous  girl  she  had 
picked  out  for  him, 

**  Bah !  I  don't  want  any  molly-coddle  in 
mine;  that  ain't  my  style.  Besides,  I'm  not 
on  the  marry,"  was  his  first  comment  on  this 
prospect. 

Recollecting,  however,  that  this  was  hardly 
in  keeping  with  his  newly  assumed  character 
for  reform,  he  amended  with, 

"  I  don't  know  but  I  will,  though  ;  may  be  I 
will.     I'll  see  about  it." 

Questioned  further  as  to  the  meat-canning 


40  THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY. 

industry,  he  avoided  the  subject.  But  one  day 
he  came  in  with,  "  Say  !  I've  got  to  send  the 
old  lady  a  certificate  that  I'm  working  in  the 
business  that  she  sent  me  the  money  for. — You 
wouldn't  mind  signing  that,  would  you  ?  " 

"  Are  you  actually  in  the  business?  " 

"  Well,  no,  but  I  will  be  next  Monday,  sure. 
It's  only  dating  a  little  ahead,  you  see." 

"  I  don't  exactly  seem  to  see  it." 

"  Well,  I  only  mentioned  it.  I  thought  per- 
haps you'd  like  to  send  her  on  your  name,  on 
account  of  your  bein'  from  New  York,  She'd 
have  more  confidence  in  it  too,"  and  he  went 
off,  with  —  for  him  —  a  rather  disconsolate 
manner. 

Alas  and  alas,  for  the  poor  old  lady!  There 
was  undoubtedly  ample  trouble  yet  in  store 
for  her. 

From  this  time,  I  saw  less  and  less  of  the 
brown-stone  boy.  His  appearance  when  we 
met  was  less  and  less  hopeful  of  permanent 
reformation.  He  made  new  acquaintances 
of  a  flashy  aspect,  strolled  with  them  on  the 
principal  thoroughfare,  laughing  loudly,  and 
played  billiards  a  great  deal  with  them.     I  saw 


THE  BROWN-STONE    BOY.  41 

him  driving  a  number  of  them  in  a  handsome 
vehicle,  and,  surrounded  by  them  in  a  box  at 
the  theatre,  where  he  seemed  the  ruling  spirit. 

He  came  and  borrowed  a  sum  of  money  of 
me,  under  pretext  of  having  left  his  pocket- 
book  at  home,  and,  on  getting  it,  returned  no 
more.  I  met  him  one  evening  in  the  streets, 
stupidly  intoxicated,  his  fine  apparel  gone,  and 
as  shabby  as  when  I  had  first  seen  him  on  ship- 
board. As  I  was  leaving  the  place,  on  the  way 
to  the  train,  I  met  him  again.  He  was  now 
even  more  dilapidated,  but  sober,  or  at  least 
coherent  in  his  talk. 

"  HelAo,  pard  !  You  off?  "  he  cried,  in  hilar- 
ious greeting.  "  Well,  be  good  to  yourself  ! 
You  wouldn't  mind  droppin'  a  friend  a  dol- 
lar, as  you're  goin'  away,  would  you  ?  I've 
been  workin'  in  a  theatre. — ^Say  !  I've  got  the 
biggest  scheme  out.  I  wish  you  had  more 
time  to  stop  and  talk.  —  Say!  .  Well,  so 
long !  " 

It  was  not  yet  a  final  leave-taking,  however. 
Contrary  to  my  expectations,  I  was  obliged  to 
return  some  two  months  later,  and  passed,  one 
day,  the  hospital    on   the    windy   hill.      The 


42  THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY. 

porter  there  recognized  me,  hesitated,  and  then 
said,  with  a  certain  eagerness, — 

"  You  was  with  him  It  would  be  a  char'ty 
to  step  up  and  see  him.     He's  in  a  bad  way." 

"  Who  is  in  a  bad  way  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  The  short  shmilin'  one,  that  was  chaffin' 
me,  that  day  ;  don't  ye  mind  ?" 

I  mounted  the  stairs  with  him,  and  there,  in 
a  ward  among  the  pauper  sick,  lay  the  brown- 
stone  boy.  He  was  emaciated  to  the  last  de- 
gree. His  eyes  were  closed  when  I  first  paused 
by  his  iron  cot.  They  seemed  abnormally 
large,  in  their  hollow  sockets,  as  he  feebly 
opened  them. 

"  You  come,  pard  ?  "  he  said.  "  I'm  laid  up. 
I  got  a  heavy  cold  on  me.  I've  got  to  stop 
these  rackets;  they  won't  do.  I'm  going  to 
swear  off." 

The  voice  that  came  from  his  chest,  full  of 
strange  rattlings  and  wheezings,  on  which  he 
placed  one  thin  hand,  was  very  faint  and  husky. 

"There  hasn't  seemed  to  be  nobody  here  to 
take  much  notice  of  me  lately,"  he  continued, 
gazing  around  in  a  wandering  way.  "  I  got  'em 
to  telegraph  to  the  old  lady ;  it  must  ha'  been 


THE  BROWN-STONE  BOY.  43 

some  time  ago.  It's  seven  or  eight  days'  jour- 
ney,— but  once  she'd  ha'  come  if  it  was  a  hun- 
dred. I  guess  I've  played  it  on  her  too  often  ; 
she  don't  believe  me.  I  don't  blame  her,  pard, 
do  you  ?" 

He  turned  his  face  toward  the  wall. 

A  sudden  flurry  and  movement  made  itself 
felt ;  there  was  a  rustle  of  feminine  skirts ;  and 
up  to  the  bedside  came  a  spare,  comely  old  lady, 
piloted  thither  by  the  garrulous  urchin  from 
the  yard.  She  was  a  lady,  refined  in  every 
lineament ;  white-haired,  dressed  in  dark  silken 
attire,  and  her  features  crossed  by  an  expression 
of  woful  pain.  The  sight  would  have  moved  a 
heart  of  stone.  "  The  old  lady  "  had  come  to 
her  Benjamin,  her  youngest-born,  to  him  who 
had  been  a  lovable  child  in  her  arms,  before  all 
this  nightmare  of  evil  years — to  him  for  whom 
she  had  had  ambitions,  for  whom  she  had 
prayed,  suffered,  sacrificed  herself, — and  she 
found  him  thus.  He  looked  up,  with  a  gasp, 
knew  her,  and  acted  as  if  her  presence  were 
incredible. 

She  threw  herself    upon  him  passionately, 


44  THE  BROWN- STONE  BOY. 

embraced  and  kissed  him  as  if  he  were  again 
her  little  child. 

"  I  didn't  have  the  will  power,"  he  mur- 
mured, feebly,  "  I  didn't  have  the  will-power." 

"  Mother  !  mother !  "  he  cried  again,  pres- 
ently, "  if  I  could  live  ?     Ok,  if  I  could  live — " 

And  with  the  greatness  of  this  aspiration, 
that  it  might  yet  be  possible  for  him  to  show 
her  the  measure  of  his  gratitude  for  all  her  love 
and  forbearance,  this  spirit,  so  strangely  weak, 
so  lacking  the  essential  grain  of  fortitude  and 
self-control  that  might  have  given  him  ascend- 
ency over  fortune,  took  its  flight. 

The  brown-stone  boy  had  added  to  his  mani- 
fold experiences  the  last  and  greatest  experi- 
ence of  all. 


A  LITTLE  DINNER. 


1  REGRET  to  have  to  use  so  unpleasant  a 
description, — and  nothing  in  the  world  would 
induce  me  to  do  it  outside  of  this  confidential 
circle, — but  Juliet  Scatterbury — who  afterwards 
became  Mrs.  Bang — was  one  of  the  most  super- 
lative of  liars.  Oh,  it  was  so  admitted.  You 
should  hear  the  gentle  irony  of  Sam  Lambert's 
remarks  about  her  !  His  wife  checks  him,  it  is 
true,  as  to  the  particular  case  here  to  be  des- 
cribed, believing  that  to  have  been  largely  her 
own  fault,  but  the  fact  remains  that  Juliet  was 
an  egregious  follower  of  Ananias  and  Sapphira. 
There  was  wide  range  and  ingenuity  in  her 
inventions ;  no  one  ever  appeared  to  take  a 
more  genuine  comfort  in  mendacity  than  she. 
It  often  seemed  as  if  she  would  rather  employ 
it  than  truth,  even  when  the  latter  would  have 
answered  the  purpose  better.  She  sometimes 
wore  a  rapt  and  imaginative  air  as  if  she  thor- 


46  A    LITTLE  DINNER. 

oughly  believed  in  her  statements  herself.  She 
would  romance,  for  instance,  about  her  early 
life,  tell  you  of  journeys  she  had  made,  thrilling 
adventures  she  had  met  with,  priceless  jewels 
and  wondrous  ball-dresses  she  had  worn,  and 
unmeasured  social  attentions  that  had  been 
showered  upon  her.  She  would  make  small 
scruple,  if  it  suited  her  whim,  of  claiming  she 
had  owned  the  largest  steam  yacht  in  the  world, 
had  written,  anonymously,  the  last  popular 
novel,  or  had  sometimes  played  the  parts  of 
Ristori  or  Bernhardt,  appearing  under  proper 
disguise.  With  all  this,  she  was  young,  pretty, 
possessed  the  art  of  dressing  well,  and  was  ac- 
complished in  several  ways. 

Her  career  in  the  large  Western  city  of — let 
us  say — Minneapolis  was  but  a  brief  one.  Her 
family  were  not  in  affluent  circumstances ; 
they  had  moved  about  a  good  deal, — her  father 
had  something  to  do  with  contracts.  But  they 
were  much  respected,  and  as  for  Juliet  she  was 
the  associate  of  the  leading  people.  While 
there  she  was  not  thoroughly  found  out.. 
There  were  always  some  who  believed  in  her, 
thought  her  a  very  sprightly  and  entertaining 


•      A   LITTLE  DINNER.  47 

person,  and  confidently  expected  her  to  make 
a  great  match.  The  young  men  in  particular 
did  not  credit  all  the  ill  they  heard  of  her,  but 
laid  a  good  part  of  this  to  the  natural  jealousy 
of  their  sisters  and  cousins,  her  rivals.  It  was 
probably  not  till  individuals  from  different 
quarters  of  the  country  began  to  meet  casually 
and  compare  notes  about  her  that  the  full 
measure  of  her  iniquities  came  out. 

Now,  Juliet  Scatterbury  also  confidently 
counted  on  making  a  brilliant  match.  When 
she  removed  to  New  York,  and,  in  some  unac- 
countable way,  made  one  of  quite  the  opposite 
sort  instead,  she  was  still  anxious  that  an  im- 
pression to  that  effect  should  go  out  among 
the  denizens  of  the  place  she  had  left.  The 
view,  in  fact,  prevailed  there,  from  some  artful 
hints  let  fall  in  a  few  letters  she  had  sent  back, 
that,  though  the  marriage  had  been  a  very 
quiet  one,  it  was  due  to  a  recent  death  in  Mr. 
Bang's  family  ;  that  it  covered  in  reality  a  good 
deal  of  solid  magnificence,  and  that  her 
position  in  the  world  was  a  highly  enviable 
one. 

She  had,  in  truth,  married  a  club  man,  an(i 


48  A   LITTLE  DINNER. 

the  son  of  a  club  man,  a  fellow  of  good  inten- 
tions enough,  but  not  at  all  enterprising  and 
with  no  very  definite  means  of  support.  They 
lived  in  a  small  flat,  in  a  respectable  neighbor- 
hood, where  everything  was,  as  it  were,  some- 
thing else.  Their  bedstead,  for  instance,  when 
off  duty,  was  a  mantelpiece ;  their  piano  a 
refrigerator,  and  the  principal  arm-chair  a  coal- 
box.  About  the  only  genuine  piece  of  furni- 
ture was  an  easel,  holding  some  photo-engrav- 
ings. This  gave  an  air  of  elegant  space,  and 
served  no  extraneous  purpose  save  to  suggest 
to  Mr.  Bang  his  standing  pun  as  to  the  facility 
with  which  it  also  might  have  been  something 
else. 

This  manner  of  living  was  Juliet's  own 
doing;  she  was  still  brimful  of  vanity  and  ac- 
tive social  push. 

They  had  some  prosperous  acquaintances 
who  befriended  them  ;  among  these,  a  Mrs. 
Lambert,  a  former  schoolmate  of  Juliet's,  a 
friend  of  her  husband,  and  a  person,  it  would 
seem,  of  quite  phenomenal  good-nature. 

"Poor  little  thing!"  said  Mrs.  Lambert. 
"  And  her  husband  has  the  makings  of  such  a 


A   LITTLE  DINNER.  49 

good  fellow  about  him,  and  they  have  so  much 
to  contend  with." 

Many  the  quiet  dinner,  therefore,  they  had 
at  her  house,  and  many  the  comfortable  drive 
had  Juliet  in  her  carriage. 

As  to  Mrs.  Bang's  peculiar  trait  of  invention 
she  probably  employed  it  outside  of  the  house, 
at  this  time,  as  briskly  as  ever,  but  she  did  not 
employ  it  at  home,  having  found  out  from 
Jim,  in  very  emphatic  form,  soon  after  their 
marriage,  that  he  did  not  approve  of  it. 

One  afternoon  she  rushed  in,  in  a  state  of 
much  excitement,  and  said  to  Jim  : 

"  I  have  just  met  the  Gradshaws  of  Minne- 
apolis— a  mother  and  daughter,  you  know — the 
most  prominent  people  there.  They  were  at 
Arnold's,  and  are  staying  in  town  a  short  time, 
at  the  Bolingbroke.  I  hardly  knew  how  I 
should  get  away  from  them,  but  I  made  a  great 
palaver  about  intending  to  go  and  see  them 
immediately,  and  escaped  under  cover  of  the 
confusion." 

"  Oh,"-  said  Jim,  with  but  a  languid  interest, 
looking  for  a  fresh  cigar  in  a  Japanese  jug  on 
the  mantelpiece. 


5°  A   LITTLE  DINNER. 

"  I  wish  we  could  think  of  some  way  of  en- 
tertaining them  without  letting  them  come  hear 
us.  Our  fate  is  in  their  hands  ;  whatever  they 
report,  when  they  go  back  to  Minneapolis,  will 
settle  it.  I  told  them  we  were  all  upset  with 
house-cleaning.  If  they  should  once  see  how 
we  live — " 

"  Well,  we  haven't  any  patent  on  it,  and 
can't  expect  to  keep  it  to  ourselves  always.  I 
don't  know  as  there's  any  invention  of  ours 
they'd  want  to  steal  very  much,  unless  it's  the 
way  that  piano  plays  sonatas  on  the  butter 
and  eggs,  when  you  touch  the  keys." 

"  Jim,  you  don't  quite  understand.  I  guess 
you'd  want  to  produce  a  good  impression  too^ 
in  the  place  where  you  used  to  live,  and  were 
brought  up.  They  seem  to  think  I've  made  a 
— a  rich  marriage ;  that  we  are  great  swells, 
you  know,  and  rolling  in  luxury." 

"  They've  got  left,  haven't  they  ?  Well, 
then,  I  see  nothing  for  it  but  to  pretend  to  be 
such  swells  we  couldn't  possibly  associate  with 
anybody  so  much  beneath  us.  We  must  cut 
their  acquaintance." 

Mrs.    Bang    repeated    this   same   source  of 


A   LITTLE  DINNER.  <,t 

anxiety  to  her  friend  Mrs.  Lambert,  when  she 
happened  to  drop  in  upon  the  latter  the  next 
morning. 

"  They  live  a  thousand  miles  away,  and  will 
not  turn  up  here  again  in  nobody  knows  how 
long,"  she  recited  complainingly.  "  Why  can't 
I  think  of  something  to  do  for  them?  If  I 
could  only  give  them  a  little  dinner  in  such  a 
charming  house  as  yours.  Why  cannot  such 
things  be  done  ?  Why  could  not  one  go  to  a 
friend  and  say, '  Here,  just  lend  me  your  beau- 
tiful house  for  one  evening'  ?  It  wouldn't  be 
such  a  very  great  tax  upon  them,  and  might  do 
such  an  enormous  amount  of  good  to  some- 
body else." 

"  It  can  be  done,"  said  Mrs.  Lambert,  whose 
amiability  sometimes  ran  to  quixotic  extremes. 
"  You  shall  have  my  house  for  any  evening  you 
may  select — provided  it  be  within  the  week, 
for  after  that,  unfortunately,  I  expect  visitors." 

"  Beware,  I  may  take  you  at  your  word." 

"  That  is  just  how  I  mean  to  be  taken,"  said 
her  hostess,  warming  with  the  idea.  "  It  will 
not  incommode  us  in  the  least.  Mr.  Lambert  is 
at  the  South,  and  the  date  of  his  return  is  in- 


52  A   LITTLE  DINNER. 

definite,  and  my  parents,  whom  I  had  been  ex- 
pecting this  week  to  begin  their  annual  visit  to 
us,  have  written  to  say  that  they  have  put  it  off  a 
few  days  longer.  I  will  go  to  the  opera  on  that 
night,  and  take  care  not  to  return  too  early." 

"  It  is  too  kind  of  you.  Of  course  I  shall 
only  say  that  we  are  in  the  house  of  one  of  our 
friends  for  a  short  time,"  said  Mrs.  Bang.  "  If 
they  happen  to  think  that  our  own  is  just  as 
good,  and  is  closed  for  repairs  or  something  of 
the  sort,  why,  we  can't  help  that,  can  we  ? " 
To  this  extent  alone  Mrs.  Lambert  became  a 
sharer  in  the  proposed  deception. 

**  Oh,  here,  no  nonsense  !  "  said  Jim,  when  he 
heard  of  the  plan. 

"  I  will  do  it,"  responded  Juliet. 

She  explained  it  to  him,  and  began  with 
feverish  energy  to  carry  out  her  preparations  for 
it.  It  was  necessary  to  manoeuvre  somewhat 
for  the  proper  date.  The  best  would  be  that 
just  previous  to  her  intended  guests  leaving 
town ;  otherwise  they  might  turn  up  again,  in 
some  awkward  way,  at  her  supposed  residence, 
and  then  all  would  be  lost.  She  discovered 
that  they  were   to  go  on  the    24th,   and  that 


A   LITTLE  DINNER.  53 

their  tickets  and  sleeping-car  berths  were 
already  taken,  and,  accordingly,  invited  them 
for  the  23d — addressing  to  them  somewhat  the 
following  discourse  : 

"  It  has  been  the  greatest  grief  to  me  ever 
since  you  have  been  here  that  we  are  so  upset 
that  we  could  not  receive  you  at  our  house  ; 
but,  thank  heaven,  in  a  day  or  two  everything 
will  be  in  order,  and  you  positively  must  dine 
with  us  on  the  23d.  I  cannot  think  of  letting 
you  go  back  without  a  glimpse  of  our  interior, 
modest  as  it  is.  It  will  please  my  dear  friends 
at  Minneapolis  to  know  that  you  have  seen  it 
and  broken  bread  with  us.  And  my  husband 
as  well  as  myself  will  be  inconsolable  if  you  will 
not  promise  to  make  us  a  long  visit  on  your 
next  coming  to  town." 

By  such  hospitable  insistence  she  managed  to 
secure  the  Gradshaws  on  her  own  date.  They 
had  not  intended  to  go  out  at  all  that  evening, 
but  rather  to  reserve  themselves  for  the  fatigues 
of  their  long  journey,  which  was  to  begin  at  a 
seasonable  hour  on  the  following  morning. 

A  cab  deposited  them  before  a  handsome 
house    in    West    Thirty-seventh  street.     All, 


54  A   LITTLE  DINNER. 

both  without  and  within,  accorded  with  what 
they  were  prepared  to  expect  of  the  good  for- 
tune of  Juliet  Scatterbury. 

Mrs,  Juliet  met  them  in  the  hall  and  went 
upstairs  with  them  herself.  The  door  below 
being  heard  to  shut  again,  she  left  them  and 
hurried  down  to  say  a  word,  by  way  of  warning 
to  Jim.  It  was  characteristic  of  that  rather 
slow-moving  person  that  he  had  only  at  this 
moment  arrived,  leaving  himself  no  time  to 
become  more  familiar  with  his  surroundings. 

"Of  course  you  will  take  care  to  sustain  me 
in  all  that  I  say,  Jim,"  she  said.  "We  may 
have  to  make  a  few  harmless  little — a — efforts, 
to  carry  out  our  position." 

Jim  began  to  grumble,  but,  at  this  moment, 
the  guests  were  heard  coming  downstairs. 

Mrs.  Gradshaw  had  a  bustling,  assertive  way 
with  her,  and  was  evidently  a  person  used  to 
much  consideration.  Her  daughter  was  of  the 
quieter  sort,  yet  quite  ready  to  echo  all  her 
opinions,  the  more  especially  in  the  present 
case  as  she  wholly  agreed  with  them.  The 
two  professed  themselves  delighted  with  every- 
thing. 


A   LITTLE   DINNER,  55 

"  Such  comfort,  such  good  taste !  We 
thought  we  had  a  good  deal,  but  I  begin  to 
see  now,  we  don't  half  know  how  to  live," 
explained  the  elder.  "  Everything  is  perfect. 
You  really  must  excuse  me  if  I  stare  round  a 
little."  She  put  up  her  eyeglass,  first  at  one 
wall  of  the  parlor,  then  at  the  other.  "  You 
say  there  is  a  separate  bath-room  for  each 
sleeping-apartment  ?  And,  then,  all  this  patent 
ventilation,  and  hot-air  supply,  and  electrical 
attachments,  and  the  sliding  shutters — it  is  per- 
fect, perfect." 

"There  is  one  thing  poor  Jim  insists  upon  ; 
I  don't  know  that  he  is  such  a  particularly 
selfish  individual,  but  he  will  have  comfort." 

Fortunately,  at  this  time,  Jim  had  led  Miss 
Gradshaw  to  the  front  window,  and  they  were 
gazing  out  of  it  at  the  dimly  discerned  archi- 
tecture of  the  neighborhood. 

"  What  does  the  vapor-bath  attachment  con- 
nect with  ?  It  seems  so  convenient.  We  must 
have  one  too,"  continued  Mrs.  Gradshaw. 

Juliet  was  a  little  flustered.  "  The — the  ele- 
vator, I  believe,"  she  said,  and  then  launched 
out  into  a  torrent  of  words,  intended  to  mystify 


56  A   LITTLE  DINNER. 

her  visitor  and  carry  her  over  this  tight  place. 
"And  all  the  furnace-pipes,  and  electric  bells, 
and  range,  and  burglar  alarms,  and  stationary 
tubs,  and  everything,  are  hydrostatic,  pneu- 
matic, interchangeable,  and  self-acting.  We 
wouldn't  be  without  them  for  anything." 

The  rugs,  portieres,  astral  lamps,  an  elaborate 
piece  of  statuary,  and  the  pottery,  even  to  a 
choice  collection  of  old  luster-ware,  were  a  sub- 
ject on  which  she  was  much  more  nearly  at 
home.  She  drew  attention  to  gome  of  these 
things  of  her  own  accord,  and  deftly  invented 
the  occasions  on  which  they  had  acquired  them. 
The  portraits  were  a  more  difificult  field.  Still, 
Juliet  had  thought  it  quite  probable  she  might 
have  to  respond  to  some  comments  about 
them,  and — though  her  answers  were  left 
chiefly  to  the  inspiration  of  the  moment — she 
did  not  shrink  from  the  ordeal.  She  had  hur- 
ried round  just  before  the  arrival  of  the  guests, 
and  put  away  most  of  the  small  family  photo- 
graphs, porcelain-types,  and  the  like  that 
bestrew  the  usual  American  household,  and 
replaced  them  from  an  album  full  of  similar 
mementos  of  her  own ;  but  the  framed  pieces 


A   LITTLE  DINNER.  57 

were  naturally  too  heavy  to  be  treated  in  this 
summary  fashion.  She  proceeded  to  account 
for  the  large  heads  of  the  Clamptons,  Mrs. 
Lambert's  father  and  mother,  by  saying  they 
were  a  dear  old  great  aunt  and  uncle  of  her 
own,  who  had  always  been  extremely  devoted 
to  her.  They  had  sent  their  portraits  on  their 
last  birthday  as  a  token  of  their  warm  regard, 
— the  birthdays  of  both  occurring,  by  a  singu- 
lar coincidence,  on  the  same  date. 

Mrs.  Gradshaw  paused  before  a  painting 
of  Mr.  Lambert,  in  Huntington's  best  bank- 
president  manner,  including  a  red  curtain,  a 
column,  a  table,  and  a  globe. 

"  Who  is  this  ?  "  she  asks. 

"  Jim's,  that  is,  Mr.  Bang's,  father."  To  have 
made  it  any  more  remote  connection  she 
thought  would  have  necessitated  too  elabo- 
rate an  accounting  for  the  principal  place 
given  it. 

"Mr.  Bang's  father,  so  young?" 

There  was  in  reality  but  little  difference  in 
the  ages  of  the  two  men.  • 

"Oh,  it  was  taken  a  long  time  ago,  you 
know;  and  it  really  is  remarkable  how  young 


5  8  A   LITTLE  DINNER. 

he  does  look  for  his  age.  It  is  noticed  by 
everybody." 

"  And  who  is  this?  "  She  stops  now  before 
the  likeness  of  the  Lamberts'  boy,  now  absent 
at  boarding-school,  painted  with  an  orange  and 
a  hoop  in  either  hand. 

"  Oh,  that  is  only  a  fancy  piece,"  replies 
Juliet,  nonchalantly. 

**  Oh,  I  thought  it  must  be  a  portrait ;  it  's 
so  very  like  one," 

"It's  Louis  XIV.  at  the  battle  of— how 
execrable  my  memory  is ! — Of  course  I  mean 
before  the  battle.  It 's  from  some  old  painting. 
I  forget  what — but  I  want  you  to  look  at  this." 

She  escaped  in  this  way  similar  inquiry  as  to 
the  likeness  of  Lambert's  daughter,  diverting 
her  guests'  attention  to  a  valuable  picture  of 
the  Munich  school  that  hung  near  by.  She 
thought  good  to  affect  to  scorn  it. 

"  I  have  never  had  any  patience  with  it,"  she 
said.  "  Did  you  ever  see  such  sheep  and  peas- 
ants ?  Jim  sat  at  Leavitt's  sale  like  grim  death 
till  he  got  it.  It  cost  him  ten  thousand  dollars. 
Perhaps  I  'm  wrong,  but  I  actually  cried  the 
night  he  brought  it  home." 


A    LITTLE  DINNER.  59 

Jim,  coming  up,  had  caught  the  last  words 
of  this,  and  his  eyes  opened  widely,  but  a  maid, 
of  a  veteran  air,  now  appeared  at  the  portiere 
announcing  dinner. 

"  We  have  had  to  let  our  butler  go  for  to- 
day ;  one  of  his  family  is  sick,  and  we  shall 
have  to  try  to  put  up  with  the  girl,"  whispered 
Juliet,  confidentially,  as  they  went  in.  "We 
are  so  fortunate  in  our  servants  ;  we  have  had 
the  same  ones,  either  in  Jim's  family  or  mine, 
almost  always.  Entertaining  as  much  as  I  do, 
even  in  my  quiet  way,  you  can  appreciate  what 
an  incalculable  blessing  it  is." 

There  were  indications,  upon  this,  in  the 
figure  of  Jim,  who  was  going  in  first  with  Mrs. 
Gradshaw  on  his  arm,  as  if  he  were  about  to 
kick  backwards  in  some  alarming  way,  or  even 
to  burst. 

Nevertheless — for  the  memory  of  the  pre- 
varicator must  be  a  good  one — Mrs.  Juliet  was 
soon  mistaking  repeatedly  even  her  long-tried 
servant's  name. 

"  Miss  Gradshaw  is  not  drinking  her  wine ; 
won't  you  see  if  you  can  find  some  Apollinaris 
water,  Susan  ? "  she  said.     Again,  "  The   ter- 


6o  A    LITTLE  DLVNER. 

rapin  is  a  little  under-flavored:  will  you  just 
mention  it  to  the  cook,  Susan?" 

"Jane,  ma'am,"  corrected  the  woman,  in  a 
stolid  way,  not  too  respectfully,  it  must  be 
admitted,  but  she  was  secretly  resenting  the 
invasion. 

At  table,  in  the  cozy,  rich  dining-room,  not 
too  large,  Juliet  romanced  about  the  plates, 
reconciled  discrepancies  in  the  monograms  on 
the  silver  and  linen,  and  fabricated  striking 
origins  for  the  handsome  screen  and  carved, 
high-backed  chairs.  These  were  a  few  of  the 
"  harmless  little  efforts  "  they  were  to  make,  to 
carry  out  their  position.  Jim  was  a  person  of 
so  little  imagination  that  all  this  adapting  of 
one's-self  in  detail  to  the  small  intimacies  of 
another's  household  had  never  once  occurred 
to  him  as  a  necessity  of  the  situation,  but  he 
could  not  now  retreat,  and  he  endeavored  to 
distract  himself  from  it  for  the  time  being,  by 
opening  a  little  flirtation  with  Miss  Gradshaw, 
who  was  comely,  and  did  not  show  herself 
wholly  averse  to  something  of  that  sort. 

Whenever  any  thing  inconvenient  was 
trenched  upon,  Mrs.  Juliet  began  to  ply  Mrs. 


A    LITTLE  DINNER.  6 1 

Gradshaw  with  more  sweet-breads,  or  mush- 
rooms, or  red-head  duck,  or  the  delicacies  of 
dessert.  That  lady  was  fond  of  her  dinner, 
and  the  policy  was  generally  successful.  As  to 
Lucy,  she  plied  her  with  questions  upon  the 
current  state  of  society  at  Minneapolis,  asking 
her  who  was  married,  who  were  the  belles,  who 
was  giving  parties,  who  leading  the  germans, 
and  the  like.  In  spite  of  all  this  management, 
however,  there  was  presently  an  inquiry  that 
fell  like  a  thunderbolt. 

"  By  the  way,  who  is  the  portrait  over  the 
mantel,  in  your  room?"  broke  out  Mrs.  Grad- 
shaw, addressing  herself  to  Jim. 

"  In  my  room  ? "  murmured  Jim,  taken  ex- 
tremely aback. 

"  Yes,  the  door  of  the  adjoining  one  where 
we  were  stood  ajar,  and  we  really  couldn't 
resist  the  temptation  of  peeping  in,  to  see  what 
the  retreat  of  the  lord  and  master  was  like. 
Of  course  it  \yas  wholly  inexcusable." 

"Do  try  some  of  the  vegetables,"  hastily 
interposed  Juliet.  "  Speaking  of  vegetables, 
Mrs.  Hedges,  who  has  lately  returned  from 
San  Francisco,  was  telling  me  the  other  day 


62  A    LITTLE  DINNER. 

what  a  wonderful  market  they  have  for  vege- 
tables there.  Do  you  know,  I  want  to  see  San 
Francisco  so  much."  And  so  forth,  and  so 
forth,  and  so  forth. 

But  without  avail,  for  though  diverted  from 
the  subject  for  the  time  being,  Mrs.  Gradshaw 
kept  an  air  of  having  something  on  her  mind, 
and  returned  to  it  again. 

"  Such  an  unusual  face  and  such  an  excellent 
piece  of  crayon  work,"  she  said ;  "  we  were 
both  intending  to  speak  to  you  about  it." 

It  was,  in  fact,  that  of  Mrs.  Lambert  herself. 

Now,  Jim  had  never  been  in  the  chamber 
thus  ascribed  to  him,  and  Juliet  could  not, 
for  the  life  of  her,  remember  the  likeness,  nor 
even  whether  it  was  that  of  a  man  or  a  woman. 
Jim,  driven  to  the  necessity  of  saying  some- 
thing, was  about  to  open  his  mouth  for  a  reply 
that  would  certainly  have  been  their  utter  ruin, 
but  Juliet  snatched  the  words  from  him,  and 
manoeuvred  for  time.  Could  she  have  got  at 
the  key  controlling  its  electric  lighting,  she 
would  have  suddenly  extinguished  all  the  gas. 
As  it  was,  she  meditated  tipping  over  her 
bottle   of   claret,   to   escape   the  topic  under 


A   LITTLE   DINNER.  63 

cover  of  a  calamitous  crash.  There  was  a  long- 
drawn  moment  of  suspense,  when  Miss  Lucy- 
let  fall  a  further  word  or  two  giving,  as  Juliet 
thought,  a  clew  to  the  sex  of  the  person. 
Upon  no  more  basis  than  this, — in  which  she 
was  mistaken, — she  launched  out  intrepidly: 

"  Oh,  yes,  that  is  Colonel  Toplift — in  citizen's 
dress.  He  is  one  of  the  most  gentlemanly 
men  and  best  fellows  that  ever  was.  He  comes 
in  on  my  mother's  side, — my  mother  was  a 
Toplift,  you  know.  Jane,  I  think  there  is  a 
draught ;  just  draw  the  screen  a  little  more. 
I  am  sure  you  must  feel  it,  dear  Mrs.  Grad- 
shaw ;  these  New  York  dining-rooms  are  so 
draughty,  do  what  you  will." 

"  Not  at  all,  I  assure  you.  But  the  one  I 
was  speaking  of  was  not  a  man's  face  ;  it  was  a 
woman's." 

"Yes,  such  a  really  charming  expression," 
echoed  the  daughter. 

"To  be  sure!  How  stupid  I  am!  Colonel 
Toplift  was  sent  to  the  frame-makers',  for 
repairs,  only  a  few  days  ago.  I  couldn't  think 
for  the  moment  just  which  one  you  meant.  It 
is  a  Mrs.  N — Neufchatel,  a  cousin  of  Jim's. 


64  A   LITTLE  DINNER. 

There  's  the  most  romantic  history  connected 
with  her  life.  I  wish  I  had  time  to  tell  it  to 
you  with  all  the  details.  She  was  a  great 
beauty.  The  family  lived  in  Portugal.  All 
the  men  at  the  foreign  legations  and  consul- 
ships and  every  thing  were  wildly  in  love  with 
her.  They  say  whenever  she  left  St.  Peters- 
burg to  visit  this  country,  it  was  like  a  perfect 
funeral.  She  and  Jim  were  wrecked,  on  the 
same  steamer,  once,  and  saved  each  other's 
lives.  It  was  near  Havana.  That  was  before 
she  married,  of  course.  I  suppose  I  ought  to 
be  jealous  about  leaving  her  up  there  for  Jim 
to  gaze  upon  all  the  time,  but,  you  know,  they 
were  always  like  brother  and  sister  together ; 
and  then,  if  there  's  one  thing  I  do  abominate, 
it's  having  your  own  portraits  all  around  the 
house,  so  one  must  fill  up  with  something." 

Furthermore,  on  the  retirement  to  the  draw- 
ing-room, the  budget  of  the  Lamberts'  small 
effects  which  Juliet  had  meant  to  put  away, 
but,  in  reality,  had  only  absently  laid  down  in- 
stead, turned  up  again  and  fell  into  the  hands 
of  the  visitors,  necessitating  new  prodigies  of 
invention.     She  met  them,  as  she  thought,  to 


A   LITTLE  DINNER.  65 

a  marvel.  The  greatest  absolute  awkwardness, 
if  not  danger  of  detection,  after  so  many  mirac- 
ulous escapes,  arose  from  her  unfamiliarity  with 
so  innocent-seeming  a  bit  of  furniture  as  a  coal- 
scuttle. It  was  of  a  new  ornamental  pattern, 
which  would  not  give  out  its  contents,  when 
she  undertook  to  throw  coal  on  the  fire,  without 
pressing  on  a  certain  spring.  Again,  Jim,  in  or- 
der to  give  himself  an  easy  air  of  proprietorship, 
after  rernaining  by  himself  to  smoke  as  long  as 
possible  in  the  dining-room,  undertook  to  kin- 
dle in  the  library  grate  a  fire  of  ostensible  logs, 
which  turned  out  to  be  only  a  cunning  imitation 
in  cast  iron,  designed  to  be  illuminated  by  gas 
—  though  this,  with  a  sickly  kind  of  smile,  he 
managed  to  turn  off  as  only  his  humor. 

However,  even  these  episodes  passed  safely 
"over,  and  the  evening  came  to  an  end  without 
disaster.  The  Gradshaws  made  their  farewells 
in  the  friendliest  manner.  They  may  have  felt 
that  Juliet,  as  of  old,  was  a  little  absent  in  her 
replies  and  not  always  governed  by  the  strictest 
accuracy  of  statement  —  perhaps  they  did  not 
thoroughly  believe,  for  instance,  the  story  of 
the  romantic  shipwrecked  cousin  of  Jim's,  with 


66  A   LITTLE  DINNER. 

its  numerous  variations  of  scene  between  Portu- 
gal and  St.  Petersburg — but  what  seemed  certain 
was  that  Juliet  had  a  most  comfortable  home. 
She  appeared  a  person  of  decidedly  important 
and  luxurious  position  in  the  world,  and  to  that, 
as  we  all  know,  much  may  be  forgiven.  As  to 
Jim,  he  was  an  honest  soul,  without  an  atom  of 
pretense  about  him. 

Hardly  had  they  taken  their  departure  when 
the  Bangs  —  Juliet  first  gathering  up  her  pho- 
tographic mementos  —  followed  them.  Jim  was 
exceedingly  grouty,  declaring  he  would  rather 
spend  an  evening  in  the  infernal  regions  than 
another  such  as  this.  Juliet  comforted  him, 
and  defended  the  case  on  the  plea  that  once  in 
they  had  to  keep  it  up.  But  it  was  all  over 
now,  it  was  a  great  success,  the  Gradshaws 
were  immensely  pleased,  and  there  was  no 
telling  how  much  good  it  might  do  in  the 
future. 

A  few  minutes  after  they  had  gone  Mrs. 
Lambert  returned  from  the  opera.  She  found 
the  house  quiet  and  everything  pretty  much  in 
its  usual  order.  The  first  object  on  which  she 
set  eyes,  after  entering  her  room  and  tossing 


A   LITTLE  DINNER.  *  67 

about  a  few  light  articles  on  the  dressing-table, 
was  a  valuable  ring. 

At  an  early  hour  the  next  morning  she  or- 
dered her  carriage  and  drove  away.  While 
she  was  out,  it  so  happened  that  the  elderly 
Clamptons  and  Mr.  Lambert  himself  unexpect- 
edly arrived.  The  former  had  changed  back 
to  an  original  plan  once  countermanded,  and 
now  calmly  proceeded  to  install  themselves. 
Lambert,  like  a  true  business  man,  hurried 
out  again  on  some  affair,  the  very  moment  he 
was  at  home,  leaving  word  he  would  return  to 
lunch. 

This  being  the  new  situation  in  the  house, 
about  eleven  o'clock  a  hack  loaded  with  travel- 
ing-trunks drew  up  before  it  in  a  hasty  way, 
and  Mrs.  Gradshaw,  followed  by  her  daughter, 
alighted  and  ascended  the  steps. 

"  Is  Mrs.  Bang  at  home  ?  " 

"  She  don't  live  here,  ma'am." 

"  You  don't  quite  understand  :  I  said  Mrs. 
Bang,''  repeated  Mrs.  Gradshaw  blandly.  "  We 
dined  here  last  evening,  you  remember.  Will 
you  ask  her  to  step  here  a  moment ;  it  is  about 
something  important." 


68  A   LITTLE  DINNER. 

"  Those  ones  went  away  last  night,  and  Mrs. 
Lambert  is  out,"  returned  the  maid. 

"  Went  away  last  night?  went  away?  "  catch- 
ing her  breath  in  amazement  at  this  unforeseen 
rebuff.     "  Well,  where  did  they  go  ?  " 

"  They  might  'a'  went  home,  ma'am  ;  I 
couldn't  say." 

"  In  goodness'  name?  you  mean  to  tell  me 
they  went  home  ?  Where  is  their  home,  if  not 
here  ?  " 

"  I  disremember,  ma'am.  You  might  inquire 
next  door,"  suggested  the  servant ;  "  I  ain't 
livin'  very  long  in  this  block." 

"  Can  it  be  that  we  have  somehow  mistaken 
the  number,  Lucy?  "  Mrs.  Gradshaw  said,  gaz- 
ing round  in  an  unsettled  way  at  her  daughter. 
"  I  was  so  absolutely  sure  of  the  place." 

"  No,  mamma,  it  wthe  right  number,"  replied 
Lucy.  "  Here  is  the  same  carved  oak  chest  — 
from  the  royal  palace  at  Dresden,  you  know  — 
and  the  chairs  —  from  the  Cologne  cathedral." 
And  they  proceeded  to  identify  many  other 
objects  immediately  under  their  eyes,  in  the 
entrance  hall. 

"  Let  this   stupidity  cease  instantly,"   now 


A    LITTLE  DINNER.  69 

exclaimed  Mrs.  Gradshaw,  to  the  flurried  maid. 
"  Go  at  once  and  tell  your  mistress  we  would 
like  to  see  her.  We  must  catch  a  train  at 
Forty-second  street,  and  have  but  little  time 
to  spare." 

With  that,  she  pushed  on  into  the  drawing- 
room,  as  having  a  perfect  right  to  do  so.  She 
heaved  a  sigh  of  relief  at  seeing  there  the 
alleged  portrait  of  Mr.  Bang's  father,  the  little 
Louis  XIV.,  and  the  rest  of  the  well-known 
objects  of  the  night  before.  But,  as  they  en- 
tered, the  maid  who  had  waited  at  dinner,  and 
who  had  heard  something  of  the  altercation  at 
the  door,  came  up  to  corroborate  the  other, 
and  said : 

"  Mrs.  Lambert,  the  lady's  name  as  lives 
here,  is  out,  ma'am,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bang 
don't  belong  to  us  at  all." 

"  Oh,  this  is  a  gross  conspiracy,  Lucy,"  cried 
the  matron,  flushing  red  with  indignation. 
"  This  girl  is  probably  the  one  who  has  stolen 
your  ring,  and  the  family  being  away  from 
home,  she  has  formed  a  plot  with  the  other  to 
evade  us  in  this  brazen  way,  at  least  until  she 
has  a  chance  to  escape.     I  think  I  ought  to 


70  A   LITTLE  DINNER. 

have  our  driver  bring  a  policeman  at  once. 
You  stay  here,  Lucy,  to  see  that  she  does  not 
leave  the  house." 

"  Is  it  me  steal  a  ring,  me  that  was  with  the 
Lambert  family  for  twenty  years  ?  Oh,  my  I 
Oh,  my  !  but  the  poor  girls  do  have  their  char- 
acters easy  took  away." 

She  gave  a  hysterical  gasp  and  then  a  scream 
that  hastened  the  advent  of  the  elderly  Clamp- 
tons,  who  were  already  coming  down. 

"  Thank  heaven !  the  '  dear  old  great  aunt 
and  uncle  ' !  "  Mrs.  Gradshaw  exclaimed,  at 
sight  of  them  ;  "  now  we  shall  see." 

But  Mrs.  Clampton,  far  from  being  concil- 
iatory, sailed  in  with  the  majesty  of  a  seventy- 
four-gun  ship. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  invasion  of  a 
peaceful  home,  this  browbeating  of  our  ser- 
vants," she  demanded,  full  of  trepidation, 
shared  by  the  old  gentleman  who  attended  at 
her  side. 

"  I  asked  only  for  Mrs.  Bang.  I  presume 
you  have  but  lately  arrived  and  do  not  know 
the  circumstances,"  said  Mrs.  Gradshaw,  brist- 
ling in  return.     "  My  daughter  unfortunately 


A   LITTLE  DINNER.  7t 

lost  a  valuable  ring  when  we  dined  here  last 
night.  If  Mrs.  Bang  is  not  at  home,  will  you 
kindly  look  on  the  dressing-table  upstairs, 
where  the  ring  was  left  ?  We  discovered  the 
loss  only  as  we  were  starting  for  our  train,  and 
have  driven  here  on  our  way." 

"  We  know  nothing  about  Mrs.  Bang.  You 
have  certainly  mistaken  the  address." 

"  Mistaken  the  address  ?  and  here  is  Mr. 
Bang's  portrait  before  our  eyes,  and  there  your 
.own,  Juliet's  great  aunt  and  uncle  !  " 

"  Great  aunt  and  uncle  ?  ha,  ha  !  "  hysteri- 
cally ;  "  we  are  Mrs.  Lambert's  father  and 
mother.  Lester," — to  her  husband  —  "per- 
haps they  are  burglars  and  want  to  rob  the 
house ;  you  must  certainly  bring  a  police, 
man." 

"  It  is  a  shameless  conspiracy  to  defraud  us 
of  our  property,  Lucy.  Who  could  have  sus- 
pected it  in  such  a  place  ?  Or  else  they  are  all 
mad.  But  I  will  not  be  done  out  of  it  so.  I 
insist  upon  going  upstairs.  I  know  just  where 
the  ring  was  left.  And  do  you  see  that  none 
of  them  leave." 

She  made  a  bold  push  to  go  up  the  stairs* 


72  A    LITTLE  DINNER. 

but,  being  a  stout  woman,  and  her  way  being 
barred  by  somebody,  this  was  not  effective. 
There  was  general  hysteria  among  the  women. 
The  suspected  servant,  pale  with  fright,  was 
almost  fainting.  Lucy  Gradshaw  leaned,  weep- 
ing, against  the  wall.  A  policeman  had,  some- 
how, actually  been  brought,  and,  instigated  by 
the  Lambert  servants,  even  went  so  far  as  to 
confront  Mrs.  Gradshaw  in  a  sort  of  official 
way.  Mrs.  Lambert,  now  returning,  followed 
almost  upon  his  heels.  In  the  midst  of  all  the 
confusion,  the  two  visitors  recognized  her  as 
the  heroine  of  the  multifarious  adventures  of 
which  they  had  heard  ;  they  turned  upon  each 
other  wild  eyes  of  wonderment,  and  Mrs.  Grad- 
shaw gasped  : 

"  The  beautiful  cousin  from  Portugal !  " 
Next  Lambert  rushed  in,  and  sustained  pleas- 
ing Lucy  Gradshaw  in  his  arms — by  some  un- 
conscious mental  process  selecting  her  as  the 
most  worthy  object  of  sympathy.  But  he  made 
a  vigorous  effort,  at  the  same  time,  to  dissipate 
the  misunderstandings  that  had  settled  down 
upon  all  the  group  like  an  obfuscating  fog. 
"  In  heaven's  name,  what  does  all  this  mean  ?  " 


A    LITTLE  DINNER.  TZ 

he  ejaculated.  "Anita,"  —  to  his  wife  — "ex- 
plain it." 

"  It  means,  it  means,"  breathed  Mrs.  Lam- 
bert faintly,  "that  —  that  they  dined  here  last 
night,  and  —  and  Juliet  must  have  represented 
this  as  her  own  house.  I  did  not  think  she 
would  do  that.  And  —  and  some  one  left  a 
valuable  ring.  So  I  drove  right  down  to  their 
flat,  after  breakfast,  to  give  it  to  Juliet.  She 
was  not  at  home,"  —  addressing  the  visitors — 
"  and  I  left  it  for  her  with  a  very  particular 
note.  I  thought  it  might  belong  to  her 
guests." 

"  Pray,  where  is  this  flat  ?  "  demanded  Mrs. 
Gradshaw  grimly. 

The  others  were  all  so  occupied  in  offering 
her  profuse  apologies,  with  which  by  degrees 
she  allowed  herself  to  be  somewhat  mollified, 
that  she  could  not  for  a  while  procure  the  ad- 
dress. Why  dwell  upon  the  long  conversation 
and  comparison  of  notes  about  Juliet  Scatter- 
bury  that  followed  ?  Mrs.  Gradshaw  persisted 
in  her  demand  for  the  address,  wrote  it  down, 
and  departed  to  find  it. 

"  I  will  go  there  myself ;   we  have  now  lost 


74  A   LITTLE  DiNNEk. 

our  train,  and  there  is  plenty  of  time,"  she 
said,  with  the  same  ominous  grimness. 

"  The  deceitful,  deceitful,  deceitful  little 
minx !  "  ejaculated  old  Mrs.  Clampton,  "  What 
punishment  is  bad  enough  for  her?  " 

Mrs.  Lambert  made  a  feeble  attempt  to  say 
something  for  her  quondam  friends,  but  was 
easily  put  down. 

"  A  quarter  of  an  hour  with  Mrs.  Gradshaw 
will  be  a  very  good  beginning,"  responded 
Lambert,  his  wonted  cheerful  flow  of  spirits 
quite  restored  at  the  prospect.  So  indeed,  it 
proved.  Mrs.  Bang  had  sallied  forth  that 
morning,  after  an  earlier  breakfast  than  Mrs. 
Lambert.  After  performing  various  errands, 
she  bethought  her  that  it  would  be  becoming 
and  polite  to  go  and  thank  the  friend  who  had 
so  kindly  loaned  her  house  the  night  before ; 
the  more  so  as  the  visit  was,  more  likely  than 
not,  to  be  accompanied  by  an  invitation  to  stay 
to  lunch.  She  was  in  the  vicinity  of  Thirty- 
fourth  Street,  going  up  Madison  Avenue,  when 
she  saw  the  carriage  containing  the  Gradshaws, 
coming  down.  Not  that  she  would  have  no- 
ticed it,  except  that  they  two  had  their  heads  out 


A   LITTLE  DINA^ER. 

of  the  window,  their  eyes  glaringly  fixed  upon   \ 
her.     They  waved   her  to  stop,  and    drew   up     • 
close  beside  the  curbstone,  where  she  met  them,     i 
She  suspected  some  unusual  circumstance,  of     \ 
course,  from  an  excited  air  worn  by  the  inmates, 
but  supposed  it  would  be  only  some  travelers'de- 
lay,  and,  seeing  the  baggage  piled  high  behind,       '^ 
had  no  idea  of  any  change   of  plan  that  could 
interfere  with  the  successful  consummation  of 
events  as  they  had  been  left.     Mrs.  Gradshaw         \ 
in  her  eagerness  thrust  the  door   ajar.     Both  /        j 
women  opened  their  mouths  at  once,  but  Juliet,        / 
with  traditional  glibness,  got  in  her  effusion  first.         \ 

"  What  a  delightful  surprise  !  Not  off  yet  ?  | 
It  is  such  a  pleasure  to  see  you  again.  Now, 
why  will  you  not  postpone  your  going  and  come 
and  make  us  a  nice  visit  ?  I  declare  !  I  am 
going  to  tell  your  coachman  to  drive  around 
to  Thirty-seventh  Street  at  once."  And  she 
bobbed  her  pretty  head  aside  as  if  about  to 
do  so. 

Good  Mrs.  Gradshaw  fell  back,  all  but  in  an 
apoplectic  fit,  at  this  unheard-of  attempt  to 
renew  the  imposition. 

"You  wicked,  disgraceful,  brazen  girl,   get 


76  A    LITTLE  DINNER. 

right  into  this  carriage,"  she  exclaimed,  straight- 
ening herself  again.  "  Oh,  what  a  cheat  and 
humbug  you  are  !  You  always  were,  from  a 
little  child.  We  know  all  about  you  ;  you  never 
lived  there  ;  all  those  people  you  described  were 
utter  fictions.  We  have  been  there.  It  was  all 
owing  to  the  blessed  circumstance  of  Lucy's 
ring.  She  left  it,  and  Mrs.  Lambert  took  it 
round  to  your — abode,  and  we  are  going  after  it. 
Produce  it  instantly,  or  get  into  this  carriage 
and  drive  with  us  to  where  it  may  be  found." 

She  even  laid  her  hand  on  Juliet's  shoulder 
to  enforce  her  commands. 

"  I  haven't  got  it,"  murmured  Juliet  feebly, 
overwhelmed  by  a  torrent  so  violent  that  it  was 
useless  to  think  of  stemming  it ;  she  offered  no 
resistance,  but  entered  the  carriage  with  them. 

"  This  shall  go  to  Minneapolis ;  this  shall  be 
related  to  your  old  acquaintances,"  resumed  the 
Nemesis,  with  high  and  mighty  sarcasm  ;  "  this 
is  what  is  called  keeping  up  appearances,  I 
suppose — I  don't  know  why  I  don't  expose  you 
to  the  people  in  the  street." 

Juliet  essayed  some  other  feeble  fabrications 
— that  she  and  Jim  had  had  a  wager;  that  some 


A    LITTLE  DINNER.  77 

people  had  different  ideas  of  hospitality  from 
others  ;  that  it  was  a  joke,  and  she  had  meant 
to  tell  them  all  about  it, — but  all  was  overborne 
in  Mrs.  Gradshaw's  indignation. 

"  yidsania  !  "  expostulated  the  daughter,  from 
time  to  time.  Her  own  way  would  have  been 
much  better  "  form," — to  treat  this  person 
with  dignified  silence,  and  simply  keep  clear  of 
all  such  entanglements  hereafter. 

Finally,"  You  had  a  good  dinner,  at  any 
rate,"  declared  Juliet,  trying  open  bravado; 
but  immediately  after  she  broke  down,  put  both 
hands  before  her  face,  begged  her  accusers  not 
to  relate  the  affair  in  Minneapolis,  and  threw 
herself  back  among  the  cushions  sobbing. 

"  Mamma  !  "  exclaimed  Lucy  Gradshaw,  this 
time  with  even  greater  energy — touched  by 
her  tears. 

Mrs.  Gradshaw  was  fond  of  describing  the 
"  tongue-lashing"  she  gave  the  reprobate,  but 
they  rode  the  rest  of  the  way  in  silence. 

They  mounted  the  stairs  to  the  flat,  and 
found  the  "very  particular  "  note,  with  the  ring. 
Mrs.  Gradshaw  surveyed  with"  a  supercilious 
air  all   the  economic  make-shifts  in  the  place, 


78  A    LITTLE  DINNER. 

which,  had  it  had  a  straightforward  mistress,  she 
would  have  considered  a  trim  and  attractive 
little  domicile.  Delivering  a  parting  homily  in 
the  same  severe  strain,  she  withdrew,  leaving 
the  culprit  in  a  cowed  attitude,  overcome  with 
chagrin. 

Juliet  did  not  dare  tell  her  husband,  but  he 
could  not  fail  to  hear  of  it.  This  particular 
offense  was  condoned,  but  the  circumstance 
became  the  starting-point  of  a  final  rupture. 
Juliet  Scatterbury  went  abroad  to  reside,  and 
Jim — having  in  the  mean  time  done  well  in  the 
financial  way — as  yet  sends  her  money  to  main- 
tain existence  in  the  Riviera. 


JERRY  AND   CLARINDA. 


THE  Medfords  sat  at  early  breakfast  in  a 
tenement-house  of  the  more  respectable 
sort,  among  the  battered  old  mansions  of  once 
fashionable  Bleecker  Street,  New  York. 

A  distinctly  unpleasant  atmosphere  of  tem- 
per prevailed.  Some  might  have  accounted 
for  it  by  the  narrow  quarters  or  the  advancing 
heats  of  the  fervid  July  day,  but  there  was 
much  more  than  this  under  the  surface. 

"Well,  give  the  boy  something  to  eat,  any- 
way," cried  Thomas  Medford.  "  You  look  as 
if  you  hoped  every  next  mouthful  he  took 
might  choke  him." 

"  Maybe  I  do,"  returned  the  coarse  woman, 
his  companion,  sullenly.  "  You  know  I  didn't 
want  him  to  come  here.  It  ain't  the  first  time 
you've  heard  me  say  so ;  nor  yet  it  won't  be 
the  last." 

The  head    of    the    household    was  a  large. 


8o  JERRY  AND   CLARINDA. 

strong  man  of  fifty,  unkempt,  and  slouching 
about  in  his  shirt-sleeves.  His  wife  was  a 
frowzy  woman  of  perhaps  thirty-five,  over-stout, 
and  with  thin,  shrewish  lips,  yet  retaining  still 
considerable  traces  of  good  looks. 

The  boy  they  spoke  of,  the  third  member  of 
the  group,  was  neatly  dressed,  of  a  certain 
refined  air,  and  decidedly  superior  in  aspect  to 
either.  His  expression  was  chronically  uneasy 
or  pained,  as  if  trouble  were  no  stranger  to  his 
experience,  yet,  curious  enough,  he  seemed 
quite  oblivious  of  the  acrimonious  discussion 
being  waged  in  his  regard. 

"  Look  at  him  now,"  pursued  Mrs.  Medford, 
"  with  no  more  sense  o'  what  we're  talkin' 
about  than  if  he  was  the  obbylix  up  to  Central 
Park." 

"  He's  my  offspring,  and  I'll  have  him  well 
treated,  or  I'll  know  the  reason  why,"  thun- 
dered Tom  Medford,  pounding  the  table. 

"Then  why  don't  you  leave  him  in  the  deef- 
and-dumb  asylum,  where  he  belongs  ?  What 
did  you  put  him  in  there  for,  if  you'd  got  to 
keep  takin'  him  out  ?  " 

"  Jerry  wants  a  little  pleasure  like  anybody 


JERRY  AND   CLARINDA,  8l 

else.  It's  three  years  before  this  since  he's  set 
foot  outside  of  it.  When  he  kep'  writin'  all 
them  letters  that  he  was  bound  to  come  home 
for  a  part  of  his  vacation,  what  could  I  do  but 
bring  him  ?  And  here  he  is,  and  I'll  stand  by 
him  while  my  name's  Tom  Medford." 

Even  in  the  man's  defiance  there  was  a  per- 
ceptible trace  of  skulking  and  surrender.  His 
was  a  morally  indolent  and  selfish  nature,  and 
thoroughly  under  control  of  his  wife,  whom 
he  had  married  for  her  good  looks.  She  was 
then  a  Mrs.  Seemiiller,  a  German  bakeress  of 
the  neighborhood.  She  had  taken  him  when 
the  fortunes  of  the  bakery  were  at  a  low  ebb, 
because,  with  the  good  wages  he  was  earning 
at  his  trade  as  a  coppersmith,  he  promised  to  be 
able  to  support  her  in  greater  comfort.  She 
had  made  him  put  a  number  of  other  children 
by  a  former  marriage  into  various  half-orphan 
asylums  and  what  not,  and  treated  poor  Jerry 
with  great  cruelty  on  every  opportunity  that 
offered,  considering  her  dignity  with  her 
choice  circle  of  acquaintance  best  vindicated 
by  this  means.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  under  the 
same  sensuous  influence  Medford  would  have 


82  JERRY  AND    CLARINDA. 

done,  in  the  long  run,  whatever  else  she  might 
demand. 

From  a  small  dark  bedroom  en  suite '^\\.\\.  the 
parlor  and  the  kitchen,  in  which  the  repast  was 
being  held,  now  came  forth  another  boy,  a  son 
of  the  ex-bakeress's  own,  who  proved  himself 
a  true  chip  of  the  old  block.  He  wore  the 
trim  uniform  of  an  employ^  in  the  District 
Messenger  service,  yet  this  could  not  overcome 
his  appearance  of  a  hulking,  insolent  lout. 

"Dummy!  dummy!"  he  whispered,  to 
Jerry  with  malicious  satisfaction,  as  he  passed 
around  to  his  own  side  of  the  table,  accom- 
panying the  words  with  a  torturing  pinch  and 
thrust  of  the  elbow. 

Medford  raised  his  voice  in  reprimand.  "  I 
had  to  defend  myself,  hadn't  I  ?  "  responded 
the  cub,  with  an  air  of  injured  protest.  "  He 
gave  me  a  lick,  and  I  had  to  return  it, 
hadn't  I?" 

"  My  boy's  bein'  the  whole  time  set  upon. 
I'll  take  my  bonnet  and  leave  the  house  this 
minute,"  screamed  the  mother,  in  her  shrillest 
tones. 

Medford  succumbed,  as  was  his  way,  before 


JERRY  AND   CLARINDA.  83 

her  violence.  He  had  now,  besides,  to  hurry- 
away  to  his  shop  in  Centre  Street.  When  ho 
was  gone,  the  pair  renewed  their  persecutions 
of  Jerry,  now  quite  unhampered.  The  coarse 
woman,  leaning  one  fat  arm  heavily  on  the 
table,  mimicked  the  motions  of  his  peculiar 
mode  of  speech  before  his  very  face,  and 
laughed  loudly  at  the  excellence  of  the  joke. 
Her  son  was  an  able  assistant.  Finally  they 
struck  the  deaf  boy,  and  then,  smarting  with 
pain,  and  bearing  a  visible  mark  of  the  blow  on 
his  cheek,  he  fled  from  them,  and  made  his 
way  to  the  place  where  his  father  was  at  work. 

Tom  Medford  was  but  little  pleased  to  see 
his  unusual  offspring  enter  his  shop.  Instead 
of  being  proud  of  the  boy,  who  was  in  many 
ways  superior,  he  was  never  any  thing  more 
than  apologetic  for  his  existence.  The  eyes 
of  his  shop-mates  were  fixed  upon  him  with 
curiosity.  He  summoned  one  of  the  more 
intelligent  of  them,  and  said  :  "  Here,  talk 
with  him  a  bit,  will  you?     See  what  he  wants." 

"  Me  talk  with  him  ?  Why  don't  you  do  it 
yourself  ?  " 

"The  fact  is,  mate,  I  don't  understand   his 


84  JERRY  AND   CLARINDA. 

lingo;  he's  learned  the  devil's  own  crinklum- 
crunklums  that  nobody  but  themselves  knows 
anything  about." 

"Then  how  do  you  think  I  know  ?  I  never 
was  no  dummy." 

"Oh,  he  writes  it  down  ;  he  can  write  it 
down  for  ye  fast  enough  ;  but  the  fact  is  " — 
confidentially — "  the  fact  is,  I  don't  read  much 
writin',  and  I  wouldn't  wonder  if  a  good  part  o' 
what  he's  got  to  say  goes  astray  at  our  house." 

Thus  urged,  the  other  procured  a  soiled 
piece  of  paper,  and  endeavored  to  open  com- 
munication with  the  youth  thus  so  curiously 
cut  off  from  intercourse  even  with  the  parent 
who,  brought  him  into  the  world.  Even  with 
so  good  a  cause  of  complaint  as  he  had,  Jerry 
was  reticent,  however,  before  a  stranger. 

"  As  near  as  I  can  make  out,"  summed  up 
the  interpreter,  "  he's  been  hit  a  pretty  hard 
crack  by  some  woman,  and  he  don't  like  it. 
There's  the  mark  of  it  on  his  face,  too." 

"  Yes,"  assented  Medford,  "  the  woman  o' 
the  house  don't  fancy  him — that's  it,  that's  it. 
Well,  tell  him  it's  all  right,  all  right,"  waving 
an  arm  soothingly.     "  I'll   look  after  him  at 


JERRY  AND   CLARINDA.  85 

supper-time.  Tell  him  he  can  run  around 
town  and  play  till  then.  Of  course  he  wouldn't 
want  to  stay  here." 

He  quite  forgot  to  give  the  boy  any  money 
for  lunch,  but  this  soon  proved,  even  to  the 
latter,  a  matter  of  slight  consequence.  He  had 
seen  little  of  the  world  till  now.  He  had  a 
quick  eye  and  alert  movements,  and  was  amply 
able  to  take  care  of  himself  in  the  Crowded 
streets.  He  gazed  into  the  shop  windows,  at 
the  burly  policemen,  and  up  at  the  tall  build- 
ings. Finally  a  fire-engine  tore  by,  dropping 
hot  coals  behind  it.  When  he  followed  this  to 
its  destination,  and  actually  saw  the  conflagra- 
tion of  a  dry-goods  house  in  Worth  Street,  he 
was  quite  beside  himself  with  enthusiasm,  and, 
for  the  time  being,  at  the  end  of  all  his 
troubles. 

He  was  a  boy  much  like  other  boys.  The 
public  institution  where  he  had  been  placed 
for  long  years  past  was  benevolent,  no  doubt, 
but  it  was  far  from  his  ideal  of  a  home.  Alas  ! 
since  the  coming  of  a  step-mother  there  had 
been  for  him  no  home,  no  trace  of  that  warm 
personal  interest  and  affection  that  it  is  in  the 


86  JERRY  AND   CL  A  RIND  A. 

hearts  of  human  beings  to  desire.  His  was 
the  very  old  story  of  the  heartless  cruelty  that 
so  often  arises  from  this  kind  of  parentage, 
frequently  so  desirable  in  itself.  He  had  felt 
that  unless  some  change  for  the  better  arose 
in  his  friendless  and  desolate  situation  he  must 
even  run  away  from  the  school,  and  seek  his 
fortune  in  the  world.  He  had  persuaded  him- 
self that  he  might  have  exaggerated  the  former 
repulses  met  with  under  his  father's  roof,  or 
that  things  there,  in  the  long  interval,  might 
have  taken  a  favorable  turn.  Self-invited,  he 
had  begun  this  luckless  visit ;  it  had  proceeded 
from  bad  to  worse  ;  its  third  day  was  now 
drawing  to  aclose,  and  events  were  approach- 
ing their  most  embittered  pass. 

At  the  supper  table  the  scenes  of  the  morn- 
ing were  renewed,  and  even,  if  possible,  in  ag- 
gravated form.  Medford  could  give  no  real 
protection,  and  the  boy's  heart  sank  within 
him.  Hardly  knowing  whither  to  turn,  he 
went  alone  into  the  stuffy  little  parlor,  and 
took  up  one  of  a  few  cheap  books  lying  there. 
The  first  two  nights  of  his  stay  he  had  gone 
down   into   the  street,  with  Mrs.    Seemiiller's 


■'*&sv;' 


JERRY  AND   C  LA  RIND  A.  87 

son,  to  be  amused,  but  found  that  this  was 
only  to  be  made  a  butt  of  instead  by  a  band  of 
companions  as  rough  and  graceless  as  his  con- 
ductor. 

The  virago  and  her  son  followed  him  into 
the  parlor.  The  latter  struck  the  book  from 
his  hand,  and  the  former  bristled  up  over  him 
in  a  threatening  attitude.  He  threw  out  his 
hands  in  a  gesture  of  self-defence.  The  mes- 
senger-boy ran  to  the  door  and  summoned 
Medford,  malevolently  crying,  "  He's  struck 
me  mother  !    he's  struck  me  mother  !  " 

"  Ah,  would  you  ?  You  strike  a  woman  ! 
That's  a  little  too  much,"  cried  the  man,  seiz- 
ing the  cowering  Jerry,  and  violently  belabor- 
ing him.  His  ire  had  long  been  fuming  at  the 
idea  of  all  this  annoyance  to  which  he  found 
himself  subjected,  and,  like  many  such  natures, 
he  now,  as  the  easiest  course,  turned  squarely 
over  to  the  side  of  injustice,  and  vented  it 
upon  the  poor  victim  who  had  already  suffered 
so  much. 

Jerry  escaped  from  his  hands,  blinded, 
stunned,  and  crying  as  if  his  heart  would  break 
— though  this  even  less  at  the  injuries  he  had 


88  JERRY  AND   CLARINDA. 

received  than  the  final  dissipation  of  all  his  illu- 
sions. He  found  himself  in  the  brilliantly 
lighted  street.  The  electric  lights,  then  only 
lately  introduced  there,  shone  vividly  into  the 
shop  windows  and  upon  the  motley  groups  of 
foreigners  on  the  sidewalks.  This  was  no 
place  for  concealment.  Even  as  he  paused  a 
moment  to  take  breath  he  saw  his  father  com- 
ing after  him. 

"  Hi,  Jerry  !  come  back  now.  I'll  do  ye  no 
more  harm,"  cried  the  parent.  "  Come  back 
now,  I  say." 

But  the  ears  of  the  fugitive  were  imper- 
vious to  all  human  sounds  ;  thinking  he  was 
wanted  only  for  further  punishment,  he  sped 
on,  fear  adding  wings  to  his  feet.  He  plunged 
down  a  side  street  and  through  a  number  of 
dark  alleys,  and  came  out  at  last  at  the  water's 
edge. 

Medford,  discomfited  in  the  pursuit,  went 
back  to  his  home,  swore  a  while,  as  in  duty 
bound,  at  the  family  remaining  there,  and  then 
settled  down  in  an  entirely  comfortable  state 
of  resignation  to  his  loss,  which  was  not  dis- 
turbed even  when  he  found  that  Jerry  had  not 


JERRY  AND  CLARINDA.  89 

returned  to  school,  nor  was  heard  of  from  any 
quarter. 

The  great  dark  hulls  and  tangled  cordage  of 
the  shipping  rose  mysteriously  around  our 
fugitive,  and  the  dark  waters  gave  their  omi- 
nous chuckle  at  his  feet.  He  could  not  re- 
turn to  school  to-night,  even  if  he  would.  The 
pressing  question  first  before  him  was  to 
secure  a  night's  lodging. 

While  he  was  lost  in  thought,  a  young  man 
of  dandified  pattern  came  by  and  threw  a 
valise  at  his  feet  for  him  to  carry.  The  action, 
though  not  the  speech,  was  plainly  intelligible, 
and  Jerry,  glad  of  the  opening,  shouldered  the 
heavy  bag  and  followed  him  across  one  of  the 
ferries,  and  then  a  considerable  distance  up 
into  the  town  on  the  other  side.  He  received 
a  quarter  of  a  dollar  piece  in  payment  for  his 
service,  and  with  this  coin  in  his  hand  found 
himself  at  ten  o'clock  at  night  in  an  unknown 
part  of  Jersey  City  —  all  parts  of  which, 
for  that  matter,  were  equally  unknown  to 
him. 

He  wandered  about  somewhat  aimlessly, 
and  reached  the  northern  suburbs.     There  he 


90  JERRY  AND   CLARINDA. 

met  an  ice  wagon,  going  homeward  empty 
after  its  belated  rounds  of  the  day.  A  high 
partition  so  cut  off  the  rear  part  of  it  from  the 
view  of  the  driver — drowsing  besides  on  the 
seat — that  he  would  not  be  likely  to  see  what 
was  transacting  there.  Jerry  took  advantage 
of  this  circumstance  to  creep  within  and 
steal  a  ride.  Lulled  by  the  long-continued, 
monotonous  motion,  he  at  length  fell  fast 
asleep. 

He  was  awakened  next  morning  by  a  num- 
ber of  people — belonging  to  a  farm  attached  to 
an  ice-cutting  establishment — standing  over 
him.  They  scolded  him  at  first,  then  mani- 
fested much  curiosity  about  his  infirmity,  and 
finally  gave  him  a  good  breakfast  and  let  him 
go.  According  to  Jerry's  own  subsequent  ac- 
count, his  endeavor  to  communicate  with  these 
acquaintances  was  not  in  all  respects  satisfac- 
tory. 

"  That  ice-farmer  family,"  he  wrote,  "  ask  me 
how  was  my  name,  where  did  I  go,  and  what  did 
I  do.  I  gave  them  a  changed  name,  because  I 
was  not  secure  if  they  would  send  me  back  to 
my  father.     But  sometimes  they  look  to  both 


JERRY  AND   CLARINDA.  9 1 

sides  of  the  paper,  and  can  not  know  its  mean- 
ing, and  I  had  discouraged." 

Among  deaf-mutes  there  are  many  who  learn 
to  express  themselves  with  perfect  facility  in 
ordinary  language,  but  the  vast  majority  never 
escape  from  a  quaint  dialect  constructed  upon 
analogy  with  their  language  of  signs.  They 
use  the  vernacular  like  the  most  unversed  of 
foreigners.  Jerry,  with  all  his  brightness — 
bearing  in  mind,  too,  that  he  had  by  no  means 
finished  his  schooling — belonged  to  the  latter 
class,  and  afforded  no  exception  to  their  peculi- 
arities. 

From  this  first  stopping-place  he  went  on, 
meeting  with  various  adventures  and  hard- 
ships, till  he  arrived  at  a  region  which  must 
have  been  somewhere  about  the  Wallkill  Val- 
ley. There  he  worked  a  short  time  at  his 
trade  of  cabinet-maker,  the  elements  of  which 
he  acquired  at  the  Institution,  and  thence  set 
out  again,  this  time  making  in  the  direction  of 
the  Hudson,  which  he  finally  reached  at  New- 
burgh.  He  was  conveyed  across  it  by  a  fish- 
erman, took  to  catching  rides  on  railroad 
trains,  with  the  idea  of  getting  to  Canada,  lost 


92  JERRY  AND   CLARIXDA. 

his  bearings,  and  was  at  length  ignominiously 
put  off  by  a  conductor.  He  found  himself  at 
the  small  station  of  Staatsburg,  much  south 
of  the  point  where,  by  this  time,  he  had  ex- 
pected to  be. 

It  was  there  I  first  saw  him,  sitting  discon- 
solately on  the  edge  of  the  depot  platform. 
He  had  fallen  in  already  with  one  of  our  own 
characters  of  local  celebrity,  Barney  Pringle,  a 
strong,  adult  deaf-mute,  of  little  education, 
employed  on  the  railroad  to  move  turn-tables, 
now  here  and  now  further  up  the  track.  He 
had  lost  both  arms  in  an  accident,  but  neither 
this  nor  any  other  of  his  disabilities  was 
allowed  to  dampen  a  peculiar  flow  of  spirits. 
He  was  a  short,  thick-set  fellow,  with  a  ruddy 
visage,  and  very  lively  ways.  He  could  do  a 
variety  of  surprising  feats,  the  principal  of 
which  was  putting  on  and  taking  off  his  hat 
with  the  aid  of  his  stumps  and  teeth. 

As  I  approached  the  pair  seemed  to  have  been 
conferring  together,  probably  to  no  great  pur- 
pose. Jerry  arose  and  handed  me  a  written 
paper,  which  I  took  and  read  as  follows  : 

"  Do  you  know  a  gentlemen  who  would  be 


JERRY  AND   CLARINDA.  93 

willing  to  let  a  deaf  boy  work  how  to  do  farm- 
ing, without  getting  any  money  for  several 
weeks?" 

The  hint  was  a  modest  one,  and  certainly 
much  more  striking  than  common  in  its  form. 
Pringle,  who  stood  by,  and  had  evidently 
acquainted  himself  with  the  purport  of  the 
communication,  waved  his  stumps  in  a  cheer- 
ful way,  as  if  conveying  that  the  plan  sug- 
gested was  one  that  amply  met  his  approval. 

I  had  learned,  years  before,  something  of 
the  method  of  spelling  on  the  fingers,  and  now 
proceeded  to  revive  it,  much  to  Jerry's  delight. 
It  so  happened  that  just  at  this  time,  a  valu- 
able colt  on  our  place  had  been  discovered  to 
be  totally  deaf.  He  was  Bulbul,  son  of  Bull- 
finch,  by  imported  Capricorn,  first  dam  Electra, 
second  dam  Alcyone,  etc.,  etc.,  a  dark  bay 
beauty  with  a  star  on  his  forehead  and  black 
points  extending  up  to  the  knees.  By  his 
birthright  he  should  have  been  one  of  the  best 
of  his  kind,  but  he  was  likely,  instead,  through 
his  unfortunate  disability,  to  be  all  but  wholly 
worthless. 

A   singular   idea   flashed   across  my   mind ; 


94  JERRY  AND  CLARINDA. 

might  not  some  affinity  be  developed  between 
the  boy  and  the  colt?  Perhaps  some  occult 
sympathy  might  arise  out  of  their  common 
affliction  that  would  render  Jerry  a  more  use- 
ful guardian  and  educator  for  Bulbul  than  any- 
body else. 

It  was  a  wild  and  whimsical  conceit,  no 
doubt,  yet  it  determined  me  to  take  the  boy 
home.  I  had  come  to  the  station  that  day  to 
meet  a  coppersmith  who  was  to  arrive  from 
New  York  to  do  work  on  a  rather  elaborate 
fountain  we  were  putting  up  in  an  oblong  fish- 
pond on  a  terrace  before  the  house  ;  but  he 
disappointed  me.  He  did  not  come,  in  fact, 
till  a  week  or  ten  days  afterwards.  I  therefore 
took  Jerry  up  beside  me,  and  we  drove  away 
hohieward. 

At  a  transverse  road  we  met  another  wagon, 
containing  a  man  and  several  women,  com- 
ing directly  across  our  course.  All  at  once 
Jerry  leaped  to  his  feet,  leaned  out  over  the 
dash-board,  and  began  to  signal  violently  to  a 
young  girl  in  the  other  wagon,  who  replied  to 
his  manifestations  in  kind.  She  was  a  chubby 
little  thing  of  fourteen  or  fifteen,  wit;h  a  comely 


JERRY  AND    CLARTNDA.  95 

face,  and  black  hair  tied  in  a  twist,  falling 
down  her  back.  My  companion  seemed  to  ask 
me,  in  an  appealing  way,  to  stop,  and  when  I 
had  done  so,  leaping  down,  he  ran  to  shake 
hands  with  his  friend.  Their  motions,  rapid 
as  lightning,  were  a  marvel  to  see.  They 
were  rather  like  some  of  the  animated  races 
of  southern  Europe  than  phlegmatic  Anglo- 
Saxons.  It  seemed  that  they  were  friends  or 
acquaintances  from  the  same  school.  They 
met  like  strangers  in  a  strange  land,  overjoyed 
at  the  unexpected  encounter,  and  the  recol- 
lection it  brought  up  of  the  many  things  in 
common  between  them. 

"Clarinda's  my  brother's  child,"  said  the 
man  in  the  other  vehicle,  very  civilly.  "  He 
left  her  to  us  when  he  died,  and  she's  the  pride 
of  our  house.  It's  a  great  treat  to  them  dum- 
mies," he  added,  presently,  "to  see  some  o' 
their  own  sort  once  in  a  while.  I'd  go  half  a 
day's  journey  out  o'  my  way,  any  time,  to  give 
the  girl  a  treat  like  this." 

He  was  a  locomotive  engineer,  living  at 
TivoH,  and  being  briefly  off  duty,  had  hired  a 
horse  and  taken  his  family  out  for  a  drive.     I 


96  JERRY  AND   CLARINDA. 

told  him  how  it  was  I  happened  to  have  Jerry 
with  me. 

"  He's  a  good  boy,"  said  Clarinda,  her  certifi- 
cate of  character  being  passed  over  to  me  in 
her  own  handwriting,  on  a  pad  she  carried  for 
the  purpose.  "  He  can  study  very  well.  He 
can  also  play  well  at  various  many  games,  as 
such  the  baseball,  the  oar,  the  athletic,  etc." 

"You  must  let  him  come  and  see  us,"  urged 
Clarinda's  family ;  and  the  girl  herself  gave 
him  such  a  parting  salute  as  might  some  viva- 
cious Spanish  sefiorita. 

He  returned  to  me  flushed  with  excitement 
and  pleasure.  The  only  drawback  to  his  con- 
tentment for  the  time  being  was  that  his 
clothes  were  "  too  old-fashionable "  for  such 
an  interview.  Thus  he  described  their  dusty, 
travel-stained  condition. 

Our  farm  at  Staatsburg  was  an  attractive 
one.  There  was  not  much  money  in  such  an 
enterprise,  it  is  true,  but  it  was,  though  I  say 
it  myself,  the  show-place  of  the  country  round- 
about. I  think  Jerry  enjoyed  its  charms  to 
the  full.  We  had  from  the  terrace  a  view  of 
the   distant  ranges   of  the  Catskills,  blue  as  a 


JERRY  AND    CLARINDA.  97 

dream  of  fairy-land.  Back  of  the  house,  on  a 
sunny  slope,  was  a  vineyard,  the  terraced  vines 
of  which,  on  their  slim  poles,  always  impressed 
me  like  rows  of  dismounted  cavaliers  on  parade. 
A  feature  on  whi^  we  particularly  prided  our- 
selves was  our  white  pigeons,  a  flock  of 
which  were  continually  fluttering  above  the 
farm  buildings,  or  sitting  along  the  ridge  crests, 
with  a  most  genial,  home-like  effect.  If  by 
chance  any  of  darker  hue  appeared  among 
them,  it  was  the  great  misfortune,  if  not  the 
fault  of  these,  for  the  shot-gun  was  at  once 
got  out,  and  they  were  picked  off,  to  keep  the 
flock  pure  white. 

A  certain  part  of  the  farm  buildings  was  at 
no  great  remove  from  the  railroad.  The  track, 
I  regret  to  say,  ran  directly  through  our  place, 
this  being  its  only  drawback.  And  yet  per- 
haps it  was  not  so  much  of  a  drawback  after  all, 
inasmuch  as  our  young  horses,  for  instance, 
being  daily  accustomed  to  this  alarm  would 
not  be  so  easily  frightened  in  after-life. 

Before  being  introduced  to  the  colt,  Jerry 
was  familiarized  somewhat  with  the  other 
stock,  and  set  at  a  variety  of  small  tasks,  in  all 


98  JERRY  AND    CL  A  RIND  A. 

of  which  he  acquitted  himself  very  well.  I 
asked  him  about  his  trade ;  he  said  he  had  not 
learned  it  well. 

"  Our  boss,"  said  he,  "  taught  us  to  make 
only  very  common  or  old-fa^ionable  articles, 
such  as  mostly  sweeping  the  floor." 

Meantime  the  coppersmith  from  New  York 
arrived.  He  proved  to  be  from  the  very  shop 
in  Center  Street  where  Jerry's  father  be- 
longed. He  was,  in  fact,  the  one  who  had 
acted  as  interpreter  in  the  interview  described. 

"  His  step-mother  battered  him  round,  and 
he  ran  away  from  'em.  I  don't  blame  him," 
said  he,  explaining  what  he  knew  about  Jerry's 
case. 

After  this  we  felt  in  but  little  further  need 
of  certificates  to  our  new  assistant's  standing. 

A  letter  came  from  Clarinda,  a  little  over- 
ture, beginning  an  innocent,  quaintly  amusing, 
and  original  correspondence,  which,  first  and 
last,  extended  over  a  long  time.  It  was  ad- 
dressed to  "  Esq.  J.  Medford." 

CLARINDA   TO   JERRY. 

"  My  Friend— That  is  the  first  time  I  wrote 


JERRV  AND  CLARWDA.  99 

to  you  for  my  improving  education.  I  ask 
what  is  your  doing  now?  What  is  your  busi- 
ness in?  Also  I  would  like  to  hear  of  your 
travels.  Will  you  tell  me  them?  For  my  own 
person,  I  help  my  aunt,  Mrs.  Shackley,  in 
house-working.  Sometimes  I  ride  with  my 
uncle  on  his  locomotive  engine,  of  which  its 
name  is  Ajax.  My  uncle  says  if  you  will  come 
to  see  us  here,  you  can  ride  with  ourselves  on 
Ajax,  if  you  will  have  a  curiosity  to  do  so. 
When  you  come  here  you  can  find  a  white 
color  house.  You  must  turn  in  a  eastly  direc- 
tion, about  three  blocks  far,  right  side  down. 
It  opposites  the  Baptist  religion's  church,  also 
white  color.  I  am  quite  better  in  my  writing 
now,  so  I  close  my  satisfactorily  letter  with 
saying  Good  Morning.     Your  Friend, 

"Clarinda  Shackley." 

The  much-flattered  recipient  of  this  epistle 
replied  to  it  substantially  as  follows : 

JERRY   TO   CLARINDA. 

"My  Dear  Friend  Clarinda — My  busi- 
ness is  I  work  in  a  large  farm.  My  employer 
is  a  fine-headed  and   sound   man  in  his  heart. 


lOO  J^RRY  AND   CLARINDA. 

He  will  give  me  some  dollars  each  month  or 
week,  and  will  buy  my  fare  on  the  railroad  to 
go  seeing  you.  I  have  to  arise  up  at  five 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  milking  cows  or  animals 
and  drive  them  in  the  woods.  Also  I  give 
food  to  a  small  deaf  horse  name  Bulbul,  and 
have  many  frolic  times  with  him.  He  is  deaf 
like  us ;  he  could  not  hear  a  railroad  track. 
When  a  dog,  Peter,  barked  at  him  in  his  field 
he  can  not  hear  it.  Bulbul  leaved  that  dog 
alone  till  when  Peter  went  too  near  his  heels 
and  he  kicked  his  leg  out  backwardly.  If  I 
could  be  a  rich  farmer  I  would  made  much 
money  by  selling  my  fruits,  corns,  vegetables, 
poultries,  and  eggs.  I  like  best  country  than  a 
city  life,  because  if  we  do  not  exercise  our 
muscles  they  soon  become  senseless.  Many 
city  men  who  only  play  in  billiard-house,  rinks, 
etc.,  become  weak  in  their  bodies  and  pale  face. 
I  can  not  say  now  about  my  travels  because  I 
have  not  a  leisure  time,  but  another  time  I  will 
tell  you  them.  I  hope  you  will  accept  my  let- 
ter. I  am  glad  to  have  a  benevolence  for  you. 
So  now  I  have  come  to  an  end.  Your  good 
friend,  Jerry  Medford." 


JERRY  AND   CLARINDA.  lOI 

Whether  it  was  but  a  mere  coincidence,  or 
that  there  was,  in  fact,  an  atom  of  truth  in  my 
theory,  the  colt  really  seemed  to  take  to  his 
new  keeper  with  a  peculiar  kindness.  Jerry 
was  greatly  interested  when  he  heard  of  his 
condition,  and  set  out  upon  his  work  with  an 
evident  zest.  Without  dwelling  here  at  any 
length  upon  the  details,  it  may  be  said  that  we 
first  discovered  this  case  of  deafness  by  observ- 
ing the  conduct  of  the  young  animal  at  feed- 
ing-time, after  the  weaning  period.  If  he 
chanced  to  be  asleep  at  these  times,  he  did  not 
rouse  up  like  the  others.  We  at  first  thought 
it  lack  of  appetite,  but  his  performances  at  the 
trough,  when  his  attention  was  fairly  called  to 
it,  showed  there  was  no  fault  on  that  score. 
Again,  when  the  rest  of  the  troop  of  rogues, 
in  response  to  the  call,  would  come  galloping 
to  the  top  of  the  slope  in  the  pasture,  and  clus- 
ter there  with  ears  erect,  he  would  mope  alone 
in  the  background.  It  might  even  be  said  that 
Bulbul  was  dumb  as  well  as  deaf,  for  he  would 
stretch  out  his  neck  and  open  his  mouth  as  if 
to  whinny,  and  did  not  succeed  even  in  that ; 
there  came  from  his  mouth  instead  only  a  sort 


102  JERRY  AND   CLARINDA. 

of  half  gurgle — amusing  or  pathetic,  according 
as  one  chose  to  look  at  it. 

Jerry  bade  fair  to  cure  him  of  many  of  his 
eccentricities.  He  adopted  a  system  of  ges- 
tures and  sudden  gyrations  to  replace  the  use 
of  the  voice,  and  was  soon  able  to  control  him, 
even  from  a  distance,  by  a  certain  friendly  sor- 
cery, as  it  were,  by  signals  with  a  handker- 
chief, and  by  waving  arms  and  passes. 

He  found  time  withal  to  give  Clarinda  an 
account  of  his  journey  into  our  part  of  the 
country,  as  she  had  requested. 

JERRY   TO   CLARINDA. 

"  I  ran  out  of  my  father's  inhabitation  be- 
cause it  had  not  been  in  peaceful  sociability  with 
me.  I  had  not  money  enough,  but  soon  a  young 
man  of  worldly  pleasure  gave  me  a  quarter  to 
brought  his  satchel  over  a  Jersey  ferry.  I  did 
the  same.  .  .  .  Then  I  started,  staid,  and  ar- 
rived in  various  many  popular  ["  populous  "  no 
doubt  intended]  town  and  villages.  When  the 
sun  did  not  shine  and  the  weather  rained  I 
could  not  tell  which  was  the  east  or  west  direc- 
tion.    Once  I  made  a  little  house   for  defense 


JERRY  AND   CLARINDA.  103 

from  the  rain,  but  it  was  all  in  vain.  I  often 
felt  a  homesick,  and  thought  if  I  would  better 
go  back.  I  met  many  men  and  boys  and  asked 
them  the  way  by  my  writing,  but  I  considered 
that  they  were  mostly  uneducated.  .  .  . 

"  When  I  reached  to  Newburgh  there  were 
many  wonderful  and  relic  things  there.  I 
would  like  to  describe  you  them  all.  The 
most  relic  thing  in  Newburgh  is  Washington's 
head-quarter.  I  visited  that  head-quarter 
many  times,  both  inside  and  outside.  There 
was  a  man  who  was  taking  many  fishes  in  a  long 
net.  I  asked  him  would  he  be  willing  to  give  me 
a  row  with  him  across  the  river ;  he  said  he 
would  do  the  same.  There  was  a  rough  water, 
the  waves  dashed  themselves  and  flew  up  in  a 
foam,  and  my  clothing  was  wetted  to  the  skin, 
but  I  continued  to  smile  pleasantly,  because  I 
was  crossed  over  for  nothing,  and  viewed  many 
fine  sceneries  on  either  shores  of  the  Hudson 
River.  Now  I  tell  you  another  thing,  the  last. 
I  took  much  pains  in  walking  on  the  track, 
and  contrived  how  I  could  go  to  Canada  to  get 
work.  I  asked  a  man  how  I  could  get  a  ride, 
in  the  freight  cars,  to  anywhere.     He  pointed 


I04  JERRY  AND   CLARINDA. 

the  truck,  under  the  car,  for  me  to  go  there, 
but  I  informed  him  I  would  accidently  be 
killed  if  I  went  there.  When  he  saw  I  was 
very  wet,  and  had  no  breakfast,  dinner,  and 
supper,  he  let  me  go  in  the  caboose  with  him 
and  dry  on  the  side  of  a  stove.  Also  he  gave 
me  some  food,  and  was  told  I  could  eat  as 
much  as  I  choose.  I  spent  not  less  than  some 
time  and  had  a  very  pleasant  vacation  with 
that  man,  and  on  parting  gave  him  many  thanks 
in  return  of  his  kindness,  which  he  accepted. 

"  The  next  time,  I  went  in  a  passenger  car, 
till  what  the  conductor  would  say  when  I  had 
no  money  to  buy  my  fare.  I  did  not  care  if  it 
would  go  as  far  as  California  or  not,  but  un- 
luckily it  came  in  a  wrong  direction.  But  I 
had  troubled  about  it,  and  asked  a  passenger 
what  would  the  conductor  do.  That  passenger 
said  he  might  bring  some  detectives  to  collar 
me  to  the  station-house,  but  luckily  he  only 
put  me  off  at  a  small  town.  Then  I  was  sad, 
and  my  head  hung  down  loosely.  I  do  not  say 
any  more  of  it  now,  because  I  think  by  this 
time  you  are  too  busy.     So  I  remain, 

"  Your  sincerely  friend,     J.  Medford." 


JERRY  AND    CLARINDA.  105 

He  went  to  visit  Clarinda,  and  the  visit 
appears  to  have  been  a  social  success.  One 
striking  feature  of  it  was  a  jaunt  he  took  in  her 
company,  on  her  uncle's  locomotive,  on  the 
Ajax.  He  wrote  for  me,  when  he  came  back, 
an  enthusiastic  account  of  it,  from  which  I  ex- 
tract some  sentences. 

"  The  iron  horse  stood  in  his  stable  till  Mr. 
Pringle  moved  the  turn-table  for  his  coming 
out  on  his  own  track.  I  was  afraid  to  climb  in 
on  the  leviathan  Ajax,  but  Clarinda  was  not 
afraid.  Some  people  made  fun  of  ourselves  by 
making  signs  at  us.  Mr.  Shackley  rolled  up  his 
coat  on  the  sleeves.  At  first  Ajax  was  lazy, 
and  the  large  wheel  turned  slowly,  but  soon  it 
turned  fastly,  and  he  seemed  to  ate  up  the 
railroad  ground.  Long  smoke  went  off  back- 
wardly,  and  loud  whistles  blew,  but  alas !  I 
could  not  hear  them,  but  I  could  feel  some  of 
them.  We  back  down  many  freight  cars,  and 
went  once  in  a  tunnel  where  no  light  larger 
than  a  needle's  head  could  be  seen." 

He  was  installed,  as  his  abode,  in  the  gar- 
dener's house,  but  spent  many  evenings  with 


io6  Jerry  and  clarInDA. 

us.  His  manners,  through  the  influence  no 
doubt  of  polished  instructors,  were  perfectly 
good.  We  came  to  look  upon  him  not  as  one 
hampered  by  an  infirmity,  but  as  a  very  original 
sort  of  little  foreigner.  We  remarked  him, 
when  engrossed  in  some  piece  of  study,  uncon- 
sciously rendering  the  sense  of  it  to  himself 
with  rapidly  twinkling  fingers,  just  as  hearing 
children  con  over  their  lessons  on  their  lips. 
He  had  been  educated,  too,  partly  by  the 
method  of  visible  speech,  so  mysterious  to  the 
unaccustomed  outsider,  and  if  we  formed  our 
words  with  distinctness,  could  often  read  them 
as  we  spoke. 

We  were  interested  in  all  this,  in  some  novel 
games  he  had,  and  in  the  opinions  on  all  sorts 
of  subjects  he  had  formed  from  the  point  of 
view  of  his  peculiar  isolation.  Spelling  on  our 
fingers,  and  talking  by  signs,  came  to  possess 
for  us  a  sort  of  fascination.  It  was  the  rage. 
If  we  had  any  visitor  with  pretty  hands,  she 
was  always  particularly  anxious  to  take  part 
in  it,  for  the  purpose  of  showing  them. 

On  one  occasion  we  had  Clarinda  over  to 
dine,  with  Jerry,  and  were  much  entertained  to 


JERRY  AND   CLARINDA.  107 

see  them  together  once  more.  Her  uncle 
brought  her  down  on  his  locomotive — as  from 
this  time  on  he  did  occasionally — and  having 
some  business  further  along  the  line,  left  her 
with  us  till  his  return, 

Jerry  had  considerable  knack  in  mechani- 
cal contrivances,   and  made  her  a  rustic  chair. 

"  My  employer  says  I  have  some  very  fine 
faculty  for  it,"  he  announced,  complacently. 

Clarinda  acknowledged  his  present  in  these 
terms: 

CLARINDA    TO    JERRY. 

"  I  sit  in  the  rustic  chair  you  had  made  me, 
and  show  to  all  my  hearing  friends.  Each  one 
say  he  or  she  had  never  seen  such  a  beautifully 
chair,  and  he  or  she  would  like  to  have  that 
chair.  A  another  my  friend  said  she  pointed 
once  her  father  a  rusticked  one  like  that  in  a 
showed-case  window,  but  he  could  not  be  able 
to  afford  the  expenses  of  it." 

Jerry  desired  to  know  if  it  were  not  true 
that  many  great  men  had  passed  through  the 
world  without  a  knowledge  of  arithmetic — in 
which,  as  may  be  inferred   from  this,  he  was 


To8  JERRY  AND    CLARINDA. 

not  at  first  remarkably  proficient.  Yet,  again, 
with  a  blush,  he  inquired  if  I  thought  he  also 
could  become  a  learned  philosopher  and  cele- 
brity by  abstaining  from  animal  food  for  one 
year,  as  he  had  heard  was  done  by  Benjamin 
Franklin, 

I  urged  Jerry  to  return  to  school  when  the 
time  arrived,  dwelling  upon  the  advantages  of 
a  superior  education  ;  but  he  said  he  was  happy 
in  his  present  situation,  and  he  was  set  upon 
earning  wages,  and  getting  on  in  the  world  as 
fast  as  possible.  I  wrote  to  his  father,  and 
once,  when  in  town  in  his  vicinity,  even  called 
upon  him.  The  interview,  on  the  Medford 
side,  was  conducted  chiefly  by  the  ex-bakeress. 
Disbelieving  or  affecting  to  disbelieve  that  the 
boy  could  have  found  friends  of  any  considera- 
tion, she  said  :  "  A  good  riddance  to  bad  rub- 
bish !  If  there's  them  that  wants  him,  let  'em 
keep  him,  say  I." 

Her  worthy  spouse  stood  by,  participating 
now  and  then  by  a  monosyllable  and  a  sub- 
dued insolent  grin. 

Clarinda  had  gone  back  to  school,  and  the 
two  still   corresponded,  at    intervals   treating 


JERRY  AND    CLARINDA.  109 

of  such  topics  as  the  books  they  had  read, 
the  studies  and  other  occupations  they  were 
engaged  in.  These  effusions  inclined  strongly 
to  be  didactic. 

"  I  have  read  a  Longfellow,"  wrote  Jerry ; 
*'  he  is  a  grand  poet,  he  poets  well.  Also  I 
have  read  one  called  '  Peck,  the  Life  of  a  Bad 
Boy,'  which  contains  many  good,  laughable 
histories." 

He  wrote,  too,  about  field  sports,  which 
always  had  a  strong  interest  for  him.  "  I  ex- 
cite much  at  present,"  he  said,  for  instance, 
"  about  the  champion  game  of  the  New  Yorks 
and  Chicagos.  I  hope  the  New  Yorks  can  win. 
I  would  be  willing  myself  to  play  the  base 
ball  many  times  if  the  players  do  not  quarrel 
so  much  to  each  other." 

"  The  brain  exercises,"  returned  Clarinda, 
"  in  committing  wisdom  to  memory.  Arith- 
metic is  that  which  avoids  us  from  being 
cheated  in  money  and  other  valuable  mathe- 
matical articles.  In  history  is  told  us  much 
about  ancient  buildings,  animals,  huts,  human 
beings,  presidents,  statesmen,  and  other  many 
things.     Our  earth  is  round  alike  a  ball ;    it  is 


no  JERRY  AND   CLARINDA. 

the  centre  of  a  polar  system,  which  strongly 
attracts  our  earth  around  its  heat." 

The  girl  returned  home  to  spend  her  vaca- 
tions, and  Jerry  went  to  see  her  on  these  oc- 
casions. In  the  autumn  they  found  some  op- 
portunity to  wade  among  the  rich-stained 
leaves  that  fall  so  profusely  along  our  pleasant 
road-sides,  and  to  gather  nuts ;  and  in  the 
winter  not  infrequently  they  joined  the  other 
young  people  of  the  neighborhood  in  coast- 
ing down  the  long  hills. 

A  considerable  period  now  elapses,  during 
most  of  which  I  was  absent  from  Staatsburg, 
and  saw  little  in  person  of  what  was  tran- 
sacting there.  Jerry  grew  to  be  a  mature 
young  man,  tall  and  strong,  and  a  figure 
of  no  little  consequence  in  the  place.  He 
worked  a  piece  of  land  on  shares,  took  prizes 
at  the  county  fair  for  fruit,  Queen  of  the 
Valley  potatoes,  and  colts  of  his  own  raising, 
and  had  put  money  in  the  savings  bank.  Clar- 
inda,  too,  had  become  a  woman  grown,  and 
leaving  school,  as  so  many  young  women  will, 
even  before  her  education  was  complete,  set- 
tled down  as   a    permanent  assistant   to   the 


•     JERRY  AND   CLARINDA.  ill 

family  in  which  she  was  so  kindly  harbored. 
Examples  from  the  epistles  of  the  two  friends, 
during  this  time,  might  be  multiplied  here  at 
great  length,  but  let  us  now  pass  till  we  find 
them  assuming  a  new  and  much  more  surpris- 
ing tone.    » 

A  ball  and  reunion  of  deaf-mutes  was  held 
at  Tivoli  to  honor  the  birthday  of  some  cele- 
brity in  the  annals  of  deaf-mute  education.  A 
considerable  company  of  mutes  gathered  from 
the  country  round  about,  or  came  up  from  the 
city  to  take  part  in  this  occasion,  and  to  have 
the  opportunity  at  the  same  time  of  enjoying 
the  autumn  scenery  of  the  Hudson.  It  was 
shortly  after  my  return  to  the  farm,  and  I  was 
privileged  to  have  a  brief  glimpse  of  the  pro- 
ceedings. 

There  seemed  something  mysterious  and 
almost  alarming  in  the  view  of  so  large  a  hall 
full  of  people  going  through  all  the  forms  of 
animated  gayety  in  scarcely  broken  silence. 
A  parallel  assemblage  of  hearing  persons  would 
have  rent  the  air  with  their  laughter  and  chat- 
ter. The  dancing — and  there  was  a  great  deal 
Qf  it — yi^as  e?^cellcntly  done,  considering  all  the 


112  JERRY  AND   CLARINDA. 

circumstances.  The  drum  held  a  position  of 
distinguished  prominence  in  the  orchestra, 
its  vibration  being  felt,  I  gathered,  and  giving 
the  rhythm  and  a  point  of  departure  to  the 
dancers. 

There  was  no  lack  of  genuine  'enjoyment. 
A  very  democratic  spirit  appeared  to  prevail. 
The  jovial  Pringle,  who  moved  turn-tables,  was 
there,  and  amused  the  company  with  prodigious 
caperings  and  flourishes  of  his  stumps.  Jerry, 
as  one  of  the  floor  managers,  was  resplendent 
with  a  large  rosette  of  blue  and  silver.  He 
had  obtained  the  cherished  privilege  of  acting 
as  the  escort  of  Clarinda. 

"  After  the  middle  of  the  dancing  was  over," 
said  he,  in  describing  the  afifair,  later  on,  "  we 
formed  in  two  by  two,  and  marched  ourselves 
to  the  supper  place.  Stew  oysters,  crackers, 
and  richly  cakes  were  served  on  us  on  long 
length  tables.  There  were  only  not  more  than 
about  fifty  couples,  and  we  laughed  and  chatted 
merrily  at  each  other.  Clarinda  was  the  belle 
of  them." 

He  even  attempted,  ambitiously,  to  describe 
her   toilet.     There  is  every   reason  to  believe 


JERRY  AND    CLARINDA.  1 13 

that  the  great  approaches  towards  a  tender 
understanding  between  the  pair  were  made  at 
this  ball,  for,  shortly  after,  the  following  letters 
of  proposal  and  acceptance  were  exchanged. 

JERRY   TO   CLARINDA. 

"  My  DEAR  Friend  Clarinda. — Perhaps 
you  might  miss  me  after  our  lately  pleasant 
companionship  together.  I  shall  not  soon  for- 
get how  pleasantly  I  enjoyed  myself  in  your 
company.  Now  I  will  say  another  important 
thing,  which  is  about  love  and  matrimony. 
Since  greatly  a  long  time  I  am  thinking  very 
much  about  you  all  day,  also  in  night-time. 
When  a  young  man  become  about  nineteen  to 
thirty  years  of  age,  he  can  not  always  foretell 
that  he  would  be  a  single  man.  He  thinks  he 
would  like  a  wife  and  a  general  house-keeping. 
Well,  it  is  what  I  feel  about  you,  my  dear 
friend. 

"  Since  I  knew  you,  I  hold  many  long  con- 
versation with  you,  and  see  you  in  many  place. 
I  find  you  to  be  a  good,  honest,  and  beautiful 
young  lady,  very  good  to  do  general  housework, 
so  I  ask  you  if  you  can  be  willing  to  marry  me, 


114  JERKY  AND    CLAKINDA: 

I  truthfully  hope  your  favorable  answer  would 
be,  '  Yes.*  I  can  give  you  a  valuable  gold  ring 
for  engagement  ring.  We  can  engage  ourselves 
for  some  months  or  years,  till  when  I  should 
have  money  enough  to  support  for  two  or 
more  persons.  Then  we  will  wed  ourselves 
warmly  in  either  a  public  or  private  marriage. 
The  pastor  will  speak  to  us  about  marriage 
while  we  standing  opposite  to  him.  Then  the 
male  put  the  finger  of  the  female  into  a  wed- 
ding ring,  and  the  relatives  or  friends  disband 
to  their  respective  homes.  Then  we  can  take 
onr  marriage  trip  to  anywhere.  Perhaps  I 
will  purchase  some  U.  S.  farming  lands  for 
nothing  in  Dakota,  and  we  can  have  a  large 
farm  and  a  beautiful  residence  in  a  country. 
Hoping  you  will  say  a  heartfully  'Yes,'  I  con- 
tinue your  always  loving  true  lover, 

"  J.  MEDFORD." 

CLARINDA   TO   JERRY. 

"My  sincerely  Friend  Jerry, — I  confess 
I  can  not  say  much  of  love  and  matrimony, 
because  I  do  not  know  much  of  love  and 
matrimony,  and  the  gentleman  must  be  more 


JERRY  AMD    CLARINDA.  Il5 

skilful  to  speak  of  those  events  than  the  lady,  ^ 
but  I  will  try  to  tell  you  of  them  by  writing.  I 
was  much  interest  and  feel  a  benevolence  to  you 
for  a  long  time.  In  school,  I  noticed  first  you 
was  often  bowing  to  me  very  politely  with  a 
hat.  Another  time  in  Staatsburg  I  meet  you 
again,  and  we  were  often  corresponding  many 
letters.  I  ask  many  questions  to  your  conduct, 
and  find  you  to  be  a  working-hard,  industrial, 
Icind  young  man,  well  reputated  in  your  good 
name.  So  that  makes  a  gentleman  and  lady 
court  and  soon  fall  in  love  to  each  other. 
We  did  not  often  quarrelling  ;  it  is  understood 
that  if  they  are  often  quarrelling  they  do  not 
fall  in  love.  When  a  gentleman  meet  a  lady 
he  mostly  begin  to  woo  her  by  helping  her 
from  being  badly  hurt  by  some  one,  or  saving 
her  from  drowning.  We  have  not  done  the 
same  because  those  had  not  happened  to  us, 
but  we  often  talk  a  short  time  and  take  a  walk 
for  pleasure,  and  you  company  to  me  at  my 
house  or  to  travel.  A  lady  can  not  be  wedded 
without  the  consents  of  her  parents  and 
guardians,  who  first  consent  the  gentleman  to 
visit  her.     So,  you    can    ask    my    uncle    Mr. 


tl6  JERKY  AND    CLARINDA. 

Shackley  when  will  he  have  a  wedding.  For 
my  own  person  1  can  say  I  am  gladly  willing 
to  love  you  affectionately  and  marry  you  for 
my  husband. 

"  Your  always  true-devoted  and  now  en- 
gaged friend, 

"  Clarinda  Shackley." 

The  engineer  did  not  wish  to  lose  this  niece, 
who  was  both  so  well-appreciated  and  service- 
able a  feature  in  his  household,  but  being  a 
man  of  excellent  heart,  and  having  no  valid 
objection  to  offer,  he  gracefully  submitted  to  a 
contingency  likely  to  overtake  all  guardians  in 
similar  circumstances.  For  our  own  part  we 
had  no  thought  of  withholding  our  approval. 
We  were  not  alarmists  on  the  subject  of 
deaf-mutes  marrying  among  themselves.  We 
only  urged  that  they  should  not  be  in 
haste ;  they  were  both  young,  and  could 
afford  to  wait,  and  happiness  was  more  likely 
to  be  insured  when  they  were  amply  prepared 
for  the  step.  Our  advice  fell  in,  on  the  whole, 
with  their  own  views,  and  they  rested  con- 
tented enough  for  a  while  in  the  state  of  en- 
gaged lovers. 


JERRY  AND   CLARINDA.  117 

When  things  had  been  in  this  pleasant  con- 
dition for  some  little  time,  Jerry  was  seen  one 
day  while  crossing  the  track  to  hold  a  brief 
parley  with  a  ragged  tramp.  Then,  like  Cru- 
soe's man  Friday  meeting  his  father  among 
the  captive  war  party  of  cannibals,  he  fell  upon 
his  neck.  The  tramp,  in  fact,  was  Tom  Med- 
ford.  It  appeared  that  he  had  been  thrown 
out  of  work  in  consequence  of  taking  part  in 
an  unsuccessful  strike,  and  never  recovered  his 
place.  A  liking  for  idleness  had  grown  with 
this  ample  taste  of  it,  and  he  had  taken  to 
drink.  At  last,  after  many  vicissitudes,  he  had 
to  go  upon  the  road  as  a  vagrant.  It  is  more 
likely  that  his  meeting  with  his  son  was  a 
pure  accident  than  that  he  had  accurate  knowl- 
edge of  his  whereabouts,  or  the  supreme  impu- 
dence to  hunt  him  up. 

The  ex-bakeress,  it  further  appeared,  had 
abandoned  him  at  the  first  touch  of  calamity, 
Her  hopeful  son  had  been  imprisoned  for 
some  enterprising  feat  of  thievery  perpetrated 
under  cover  of  his  duties  as  a  messenger  boy. 

I  would  have  advised  Jerry  to  have  little  or 
nothing  to  do,  now,  with  this  graceless  parent 


Ii8  JERRY  AND   CLARINDA. 

who  had  treated  him  so  ill,  but  no  one  could 
have  failed  to  admire,  and  even  be  touched  by 
the  charming  warmth  of  heart  and  ideal  of 
filial  duty,  apparently  still  surviving,  that  led 
him  to  desire  to  confer  substantial  benefits 
upon  him,  even  after  all  that  had  happened. 
He  asked  me,  with  diffident  appeal,  to  find 
him  at  least  temporary  employment,  and  I  had 
reason  to  know  that  he  took  him  to  his  own 
lodgings,  and  clothed  him  from  his  own 
wardrobe. 

For  a  while  Tom  Medford  went  about  in  a 
state  of  deeply-abashed  humility,  but  by  degrees 
began  to  recover  his  confidence,  and  give  him- 
self airs  of  importance..  He  let  fall,  among 
the  other  hands,  furtive  disdainful  remarks  on 
the  infirmity  of  Jerry.  He  began  to  drink 
again.  Of  this  it  is  not  probable  that  Jerry, 
who  always  remained  very  innocent  on  that 
score,  was  aware.  When  the  fact  of  the  en- 
gagement finally  entered  into  Tom  Medford's 
consciousness,  he  was  extremely  disagreeable 
about  it.  He  forbade  it,  in  fact,  and  de- 
clared that  he  would  never  receive  another 
member  into  his  family  with  such  a  drawback. 


JERRY  AND   CLARINDA.  119 

Poor  Jerry  came  to  me  in  alarm  and  asked 
what  he  should  do  about  it.  Do  ?  I  was  for 
turning  the  vaporing  reprobate  off  the  place  at 
once  ;  I  bade  him  not  pay  the  slightest  atten- 
tion to  it. 

The  deaf-mute  Pringle  stopped  one  morning 
to  leave  word  that  Clarinda  was  coming  down 
on  the  Ajax  to  pass  part  of  the  day  at  the 
farm,  while  her  uncle  was  switching  cars  below. 
Pringle  too  had  wanted  to  marry  Clarinda,  but, 
finding  she  was  otherwise  disposed  of,  and 
about  to  do  much  better  in  the  world,  had 
accepted  the  situation  with  perfect  acquies- 
cence. There  never  was  reason  for  Jerry's 
flying  into  a  passion,  as  he  was  at  first  disposed 
to  do  on  hearing  of  the  presumption  of  this 
ridiculous  fellow.  On  the  contrary,  Pringle 
was  ready  to  run  on  his  errands  and  do  him 
any  service  whatever,  in  regard  to  Clarinda  as 
in  other  directions. 

Hardly  had  Pringle  gone  that  day,  when 
Jerry  came  to  me,  in  great  anguish  of  mind. 
He  drew  me  gently  by  the  arm  past  the  dairy 
buildings  to  a  tool-house  for  the  storage  of  the 
lighter  farm  implements. 


I20  JERRY  AND   CLARINDA. 

"  Look  within,  through  the  hinges  at  the 
door's  side,"  he  spelled  out. 

I  followed  his  injunction,  and  there  saw  his 
father,  squalid,  heavy,  and  inert,  lying  prone  on 
some  straw  spread  out  for  hinn.  Accompany- 
ing Pringle  a  little  way  back  he  had  found 
Medford  wandering  on  the  place,  in  a  state  of 
besotted  intoxication,  and  brought  him  thither 
for  safe-keeping.  It  was  his  first  discovery  of 
the  truth,  and  he  was  overwhelmed  by  it. 

The  hour  was  at  hand  when  Clarinda  was  to 
arrive,  and  the  distant  smoke  of  the  Ajax 
could  already  be  seen,  approaching  around  the 
long  bend  that  debouched  at  our  boundaries. 
Jerry,  with  a  very  sad  face,  moved  toward  the 
usual  place — a  part  of  the  bank  less  steep  than 
the  rest,  near  the  southern  line  of  the  estate — 
where  she  usually  landed. 

All  at  once  the  colt  Bulbul — now,  it  should 
be  explained,  fully  three  years  old,  unusually 
large  and  powerful  for  his  age,  was  seen  to  stay 
upon  the  railroad  track  at  some  distance  away. 
Great  pains  were  taken  ordinarily  to  keep  him 
away  from  all  that  part  of  the  estate.  By  some 
mysterious  means  he  had  broken  his  trammels 


JERRY  AND   CL  A  RIND  A.  121 

and  passed  the  barriers  ;  a  long  rope  halter  with 
which  he  had  been  tied  still  trailed  behind 
him. 

Jerry  was  startled  at  the  dangerous  situation 
of  the  animal,  and,  in  vivid  alarm,  signalled  to 
him  in  his  customary  way,  but  in  vain.  Then, 
dismissing  for  the  moment  all  other  thoughts 
from  his  mind,  he  ran  down  to  try  and  save  him. 

He  caught  the  end  of  the  halter,  but  the 
stalwart  beast,  his  head,  as  it  chanced,  averted 
from  the  peril,  and  mistakenly  playful  or  con- 
tumacious in  the  extreme,  resisted,  and  even 
drew  his  would-be  rescuer  upon  the  track  after 
him.  A  conflict  now  ensued  between  horse 
and  man  like  that  of  another  Alexander  with 
Bucephalus.  The  Ajax  hove  in  sight,  and  gave 
a  succession  of  such  piercing  whistles  as  might 
have  waked  the  very  dead.  All  of  us  who 
were  in  the  vicinity  ran  out,  and  looked  with 
horror  at  the  scene.  The  white  pigeons  on 
the  roof,  as  though  even  they  felt  something 
ominous  in  the  air,  darted  and  careened  about 
like  autumn  leaves  blown  in  the  gale. 

The  whole  action  took  less  time  than  it  does 
to  tell.     Riveted  though  my  attention  was,  I 


122  JERRY  AND  CLARINDA. 

was  vaguely  conscious  that  the  drunken  elder 
Medford  had  broken  out  of  his  place  of  con- 
cealment, and  was  approaching  the  immediate 
scene  by  a  series  of  staggering  lurches. 

A  sudden  turn  of  his  head  discovered  to  Bul- 
bul  himself  the  approaching  locomotive.  Its 
thunder  already  shook  the  ground.  Crazed 
and  half-paralyzed  with  terror  then,  he  leaped, 
plunged,  and  bolted  furiously,  yet  without 
moving  sensibly  from  the  same  spot,  which 
seemed  to  hold  him  to  it  as  by  some  fatal  spell. 

In  his  plunging  the  stout  rope  became  en- 
tangled about  Jerry.  He  was  like  one  of  the 
sons  of  Niobe  in  the  coils  of  the  serpent.  He 
could  no  longer  have  saved  even  himself. 
Were  we  then  to  see  our  poor  Jerry  perish  by 
such  a  fate — almost  a  typical  one  for  deaf 
mutes — before  our  very  eyes  ?  Alas  !  it  seemed 
as  if  that  swift-rushing  monster  could  not  be 
avoided. 

Shackley  leaned  out  in  horror  from  one  side 
of  his  engine  cab.  Clarinda,  holding  by  a  guard- 
rail, fluttered  yet  farther  out  from  the  other 
side.  She  was  like  some  supremely  anxious 
brooding  bird,  or  one   of  those  goddesses   of 


JERRY  AND   CLARINDA.  1 23 

the  Homeric  poem  who  would  have  snatched 
up  her  hero  and  saved  him  from  harm,  in 
defiance  of  all  natural  laws.  The  Ajax  had 
made  every  effort  to  slacken  its  momentum, 
but  with  only  slight  avail.  It  must  needs 
happen  that  the  throttle-valve,  at  this  time  of 
all  others,  would  not  do  its  work. 

But  at  the  last  moment,  when  the  jaws  of 
destruction  were  opened,  a  new  element  min- 
gled with  the  action.  It  was  extraordinary,  lu- 
dicrous, contemptible,  but  efficient.  Besotted 
Thomas  Medford  stood  beside  the  track, 
glowering,  leering,  uttering  incoherent  words 
as  of  interest  or  encouragement  to  the  contest. 
Whether  it  was  only  pure,  mad  delight  in  strife, 
such  as  actuates  the  typical  Irishman  at  Donny- 
brook  Fair,  or  a  sudden  vertigo  by  which  he 
was  taken,  or  a  partial  sobering,  a  disgust  with 
life,  and  vague  repentance  and  purpose  of 
reparation  even  at  this  late  hour — all  at  once, 
throwing  out  both  arms  before  him,  with  the 
fists  stoutly  doubled,  he  leaped  headlong  into 
the  fray,  impinging  violently  against  Jerry  and 
the  colt. 

Whirling  wreaths  of  steam,  lashing  coils  of 


124  JERRY  AND   CLARINDA. 

rope,  vague  forms  in  turmoil,  and  the  white 
pigeons  circling  above  it  all  like  gulls  in  a 
storm. 

Then  the  Ajax  passed  on.  Our  Jerry  was 
found  beside  the  track,  bruised,  half  stunned, 
but  practically  unharmed.  Tom  Medford  was 
crushed  beyond  recovery.  The  benighted  colt 
too  had  tried  conclusions  with  the  mechanical 
force  with  fatal  effect.  Thus,  though  his  ec- 
centricities had  been  pretty  well  studied 
already,  opportunity  was  never  afforded  of 
seeing  what  such  an  exceptional  animal  would 
have  become  under  the  full-fledged  responsi- 
bilities of  life. 

Jerry  threw  himself  upon  his  father's  body  in 
a  touching  way,  and  Clarinda  joined  sweetly  in 
his  grief.  It  had  always  been  one  of  the  things 
to  note  that  the  boy — perhaps  through  sense 
of  shame — had  said  so  little  about  his  family 
difficulties.  He  would  now  have  liked  to  repre- 
sent that  this  father  had  had  no  faults,  and  as 
to  their  apparent  estrangement  and  his  living 
away  from  home,  it  had  been  a  plan  commend- 
ing itself  to  the  judgment  of  both. 

May  I  say,  by  way  of  a  word  in  conclusion, 


JERRY  AND    CLARINDA.  125 

that  Jerry  and  Clarinda  took  up  a  quarter  sec- 
tion of  government  land  in  Montana.  They 
rose  to  a  position  of  admitted  prominence 
there.  Jerry — and  properly  enough  too,  hav- 
ing the  best  handwriting  and  best  average 
education  of  any  one  in  the  place — was  made 
postmaster.  He  might  have  counted  upon  re- 
taining this  office  indefinitely,  but  for  charges 
of  "  offensive  partisanship  "  laid  at  his  door. 
This  was  unfortunate,  if  true,  but  it  has  the 
redeeming  feature  that  a  good  deal  of  vigor  of 
mind  must  have  been  the  cause  of  it. 

But  perhaps  the  most  interesting  bit  of  in- 
telligence that  has  come  to  us  about  them  is 
that  their  first  child  is  a  hearing  and  speaking 
baby,  just  like  any  other.  We  often  please 
ourselves  with  picturing  some  of  the  experi- 
ences likely  to  befall  an  infant  to  be  brought 
up  under  such  exceptional  circumstances. 


A  LUNCH  AT  McARTHUR'S. 


THE  McARTHURS  were  temporarily 
without  a  servant.  The  last  one  had 
^aid  she  could  not  dress  on  the  wages  they 
paid.  The  one  just  before  that  had  mixed  up 
the  roast  beef  and  fish  on  the  same  platter,  and 
when  discharged  had  departed  with  a  scornful 
fling  at  the  illiteracy  of  Mrs.  McArthur,  be- 
cause, forsooth,  that  ambitious  young  matron 
was  taking  a  course  of  German  lessons. 

"  It's  always  studyin'  ye  are,"  said  she,  "and 
a  mighty  sthupid  head  ye  musht  have,  intirely. 
Sure,  I  complayted  me  eddicashin  before  I 
was  tin." 

But  these  were  only  occasional  incidents  ; 
the  standard  complaint  was  that  they  lived  in 
a  flat.  The  contemporary  American  flat  has, 
like  certain  electricity,  induced  a  current  in  the 
opposite  direction :  it  has  given  rise  to  a  class 


A   LUNCH  AT  McARTHUR'S.  127 

of  servants  who  are  known  by  their  aversion  to 
it.  It  has  no  area  railings  to  hang  over,  and 
gives  no  opportunity  to  entertain  chance  ad- 
mirers, or  for  delightful  converse  with  the  do- 
mestics of  neighboring  families  ;  their  society 
is  reduced  to  a  matter  of  formal  visiting  ;  and 
how  can  a  girl  provision  her  family  from 
kitchens  so  easily  under  observation  ? 

When  it  is  added  to  all  this  that  the  McAr- 
thurs'  flat  was  small,  and  situated  in  the  rather 
remote  district  of  Washington  Heights,  to 
which  McArthurwas  consigned  by  his  employ- 
ment as  a  civil  engineer  on  the  new  aqueduct, 
it  will  readily  be  seen  how  Mrs.  McArthur 
might  have  become  her  own  servitor. 

"  My  friends,  the  Vandersilts  and  Castors, 
have  the  same  sort  of  trouble,"  said  McArthur 
one  day,  in  a  jocose  mood, — though  as  a  rule 
he  was  much  more  inclined  to  grumble. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  they  have  taken  to  living 
in  flats?" 
"^  "  No,  but  I  mean  even  they  don't  escape  the 
common  annoyance.  Look  at  the  Van  Red 
Hooks  there,  who  keep  from  fifteen  to  twenty 
pampered  menials.   Lately,  when  the  butler  col- 


128  A   LUNCH  AT  McARTHUR'S. 

lided  with  a  man  with  a  basket  of  glass,  in  the 
hall,  they  couldn't  find  anybody  whose  busi- 
ness it  was  to  sweep  up  the  fragments." 

"  Nobody  to  sweep  up  the  fragments  of  all 
that  glassware  ?  " 

"  No,  the  fragments  of  the  butler." 

The  new  experiment  proved  a  delightful 
success ;  it  was  like  some  pleasant  game. 
They  were  but  two  in  family,  not  very  long 
married,  in  robust  health,  and  of  rather  bo- 
hemian  tastes.  They  decorated  the  little 
kitchen  with  blue  plates,  put  a  flowered  Dutch 
curtain  and  pots  of  geranium  in  the  window, 
and  made  it  one  of  the  most  attractive  apart- 
ments in  the  house.  When  the  notion  took 
them,  they  had  only  to  turn  the  key  and  walk 
out  and  dine  in  town  at  a  restaurant.  McAr- 
thur,  as  has  been  explained,  was  inclined  to 
discontent.     One  evening,  at  dinner,  he  said  : 

"  I  have  asked  Currituck  to  come  up  and 
lunch  with  us  to-morrow." 

"Very  well,  I  will  get  ready  for  him.  And, 
by  the  way,  who  is  Currituck?" 

"  His  chief  title  to  distinction  is  that  he  has 
a  good  deal  of  money.     We  were  fellow  engi- 


A    LUNCH  AT  McARTHUR'S.  129 

neers  together  as  students,  but  he  has  never 
had  any  need  to  practice,  while  I — " 

"  Yes,  you,  poor,  boy,  must  work  so  hard, 
and  construct  famous  bridges,  aqueducts  and 
tunnels.  But  you  will  become  greater  and 
richer  than  any  of  them,  yet." 

"  Currituck  is  on  the  move  about  the  world 
a  great  deal  ;  he  has  been  ranching  and  min- 
ing in  the  West  of  late  years,  and  he  is  going 
to  sail  for  somewhere  else  in  a  few  days." 

"  And  he  comes  to  bid  you  good-by  ?  " 

"  No,  not  at  all ;  but  he  has  had  an  idea,  from 
my  connection  with  public  works  in  this  part 
of  town,  that  I  ought  to  be  a  good  judge  of  real 
estate,  and  he  has  trusted  me  to  make  a  small  in- 
vestment for  him.  I  often  tried  to  get  him  up 
here  before,  but  he  would  never  do  it.  Now  he 
comes  of  his  own  accord.  We  will  have  lunch 
first,  and  go  and  look  at  tlie  lots  afterward. 
I  should  not  be  sorry  if  he  felt  inclined  to  do  a 
little  more  in  the  same  line ;  the  commissions 
come  in  very  handy,  and  it  does  not  take  much 
time." 

"Oh,  I  wish  he  would." 

**  But   we   must   have    a    servant.     He  will 


I30  A    LUNCH  AT  Mc ARTHUR'S. 

think  a  man  who  has  been  able  to  feather  his 
nest  no  better  than  this,  no  proper  manager  of 
his  affairs." 

"  If  he's  an  intimate  friend  of  yours,  I'm  sure 
he'll  understand  it,  and  make  all  the  more  of 
us  for  it." 

"  We  took  our  diplomas  together  ;  and  I  see 
him  about  once  in  every  five  or  ten  years ;  I 
don't  know  whether  you  call  that  being  an  in- 
timate friend  or  not.  He  was  a  most  conven- 
tional person  in  those  days,  fastidious  in  dress, 
manners,  and  everything  else;  and  it  takes  a 
lot  of  imagination  and  poetry  to  appreciate 
this  sort  of  thing." 

"  Then  what  a  poetess  /  must  be." 

"  You  have  got  to  keep  up  appearances  ;  you 
have  got  to  take  a  degenerate  world  as  you 
find  it,"continued  the  husband,  airing  his  pessi- 
mism. "  Don't  you  suppose  I  would  have  got 
that  bridge  up  in  Ulster  county  the  other  day — 
after  they  had  approved  my  design  and  all — if 
the  committee  had  come  down  here  and  found 
me  a  member  of  all  the  leading  clubs,  and  liv- 
ing in  imposing  style  ?  Don't  you  suppose  my 
jokes  and  stories  would  be  better  appreciated 


A   LUNCH  AT  McARTHUR'S.  131 

if  they  were  heard  over  solid  mahogany  and 
the  laughter  they  occasioned  echoed  through 
lofty  drawing-rooms  ?  " 

"  Lofty  ceilings  are  not  the  style  at  pres- 
ent." 

"  Well,  low-ceiled  drawing-rooms  then. 
Don't  you  suppose — " 

**  Yes,  my  poor,  unappreciated  genius,  I  sup- 
pose everything.  But  there  is  no  possibility  of 
getting  a  servant  at  short  notice,  and  I  have  so 
good  a  memory  I  feel  as  if  I  never  wanted  to 
see  another  one  in  the  house,  any  way." 
"  Oh,  very  well,  very  well !  " 
But  no  sooner  was  this  settled  than — 
"  I    have   an   idea  ! "    exclaimed    the  young 
housekeeper.     She  jumped  up   in  the  elation 
of  it  and  waltzed  gayly  around  the  room. 
"An  idea!     No,  really?     You  alarm  me." 
"  r\\  be  the  servant,     /'ll  play  the  maid," 
"  Nonsense  !     Borrow  your  aunt's  waitress, 
just  for  three  or  four  hours,  for  this  one  occa- 
sion." 

"  It  can't  be  done  :  Rosette  was  in  here  only 
this  morning  complaining  of  all  the  trouble  her 
mother  is  having.     They  give  a  large  lunch- 


l32  A    LUNCH  AT  McARTilUk'S. 

party,  to-morrow,  themselves.  Currituck  has 
never  seen  me,  and  Mrs.  Crawford,  who  played 
Belinda  in  '  Our  Boys,'  showed  me  how  to 
draw  lines  on  my  face,  and  make  up  so  he 
would  never  know  me  if  he  ever  should." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  are  really  '  game  ' 
for  such  an  escapade?"  asked  McArthur,  ad- 
miringly. 

She  struck  her  hand  into  his  after  the  ap- 
proved manner  of  conspirators,  and,  seizing  a 
dust-brush,  took  with  its  aid  various  attitudes 
supposed  to  be  peculiar  to  stage  soubrettes. 

"  Haven't  I  sworn  to  love,  honor,  and 
obey?"  she  returned.  "What  does  that  mean 
if  I  can't  be  a  waiting-maid  a  little  if  I  like? — 
You  can  say  I  had  an  invitation  to  visit  my 
family  out  of  town,  you  know.  And  so  I  had 
— though  I  didn't  accept  it.  You  will  regret 
that  I  could  not  have  had  the  very  great  pleas- 
ure of  meeting  him,  and  all  that." 

"  Don't  give  yourself  much  pains  about  cos- 
tume ;  he's  a  particularly  unobservant  person 
where  women  are  concerned,  and  would  never 
notice," 

"  I'll   make   a   perfect  guy    of    myself,"  re- 


A   LUNCH  AT  McARTHUR'S.  133 

sponded  Mrs.  McArthur  with  enthusiasm.  "  I 
haven't  studied  our  valuable  domestics  for 
nothing." 

"  I  wouldn't  make  too  much  of  a  guy  of  my- 
self," suggested  McArthur,  with  an  air  of  mod- 
eration. 

"  No,  not  too  much,  only  just  enough. — 
You'll  see." 

"  What  name  will  you  have  ?  You  must 
take  an  easy  one,  that  I  shan't  be  likely  to 
forget." 

"  Why  not  keep  my  own  ?  " 

"  He  may  by  some  chance  have  heard  it,  or 
may  hear  it  hereafter,  and  complications  would 
arise." 

"  Suppose  I  take  Rosette's,  then.  You 
won't  forget  that." 

"  Very  good  !  Shall  we  let  Rosette  into  the 
secret?     She  would  enjoy  it  immensely." 

"  No ;  it  may  prove  a  failure,  and  then  we 
wouldn't  like  to  have  her  know.  Let's  wait 
till  it's  over." 

At  the  appointed  hour  the  guest  arrived. 
McArthur  had  been  detained  from  home  that 
morning  by  some  untoward  accident,  and  when 


134  A    LUNCH  AT  McARTHUR'S. 

he  arrived  Currituck  was  already  installed  in 
the  little  library,  and  inspecting  some  few 
odd  curiosities  there.  Mrs.  McArthur  was 
engaged  at  the  rear.  Her  husband  went  to 
seek  her,  inquiringly ;  but  she  concealed  her- 
self and  called  out  from  the  kitchen  : 

"  It's  all  right.  I  let  him  in.  I'll  ring  the 
little  bell  when  I  am  ready ;  and  be  sure  you 
don't  keep  me  waiting." 

Currituck  had  changed  a  good  deal,  and  not 
for  the  better,  since  the  host  saw  him  last. 
He  had  grown  stouter,  wrinkled,  and  red- 
faced,  and  he  knitted  his  brows  in  a  brusque, 
arbitrary  way.  When  the  signal  for  lunch  was 
at  length  given  he  started  for  the  dining-room 
with  alacrity. 

"A  favorable  sign,"  reflected  McArthur; 
"  he  has  a  good  appetite  at  any  rate." 

The  two  sat  down  at  table,  tucked  in  their 
very  fresh  white  napkins,  and  attacked  the 
first  course,  appetizingly  laid  out  before  them. 

"I  shall  have  to  apologize  for  entertaining 
you  in  free-and-easy  bachelor  fashion,"  said  the 
host,  choking  down  his  qualms  of  conscience  ; 
"  Mrs.  McArthur  had  an   invitation   from  her 


A   LUNCH  AT  McARTHUR'S.  135 

parents  to  go  and  spend  a  fortnight  with 
them." 

"Ya-as,  ya-as,  sorry,"  returned  the  visitor, 
engaged  upon  his  oysters  with  an  air  denoting 
that  the  existence  of  any  Mrs.  McArthur  was 
a  matter  of  the  supremest  indifference  to  him. 

"  It  will  be  a  source  of  great  regret  to  her 
not  to  have  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  you  ; 
but  perhaps  at  some  other  time — " 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  the  new  maid 
drew  back  the  little  portiere  across  the  door 
separating  the  dining-room  from  the  kitchen, 
and  made  her  dramatic  entry.  He  husband 
suspended  the  operations  of  his  knife  and  fork 
for  a  moment  in  amazement.  As  to  Mr.  .Cur- 
rituck, who  had  seen  her  already,  he  beamed 
with  a  most  satisfied  smile  of  recognition. 

Mrs.  McArthur  was  round,  plump,  and  very 
pretty,  and  had  never  appeared  to  better  ad- 
vantage than  in  her  present  costume.  Her 
dimpled  cheeks,  flushed  with  excitement  and 
the  warmth  of  the  cooking,  glowed  delicate 
pink.  She  had  put  on  a  simple  gown  of  pink 
gingham,  selected  from  her  summer  wardrobe, 
a  large  white  apron  crisply    starched    and  a 


13^  A   LUNCH  AT  McARTHUK'S. 

most  coquettish  white  cap  of  equal  freshness. 
It  was  a  coup  de  thMtre,  all  charmingly  imag- 
ined from  the  point  of  view  of  effect,  but  a 
good  deal  lacking  in  probability,  as  it  were. 

But  no  sooner  had  she  left  the   room  than 
he   poked     his   knife    facetiously    in    the    air 
towards  McArthur,  exclaiming: 
"  Eh,  sly  dog!  sly  dog!  " 
"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 
"  Wife  away,  eh  ?  aha !  oho !  eh  ? ' 
"  Oh,  I  assure  you — "  protested  the  host,  en- 
deavoring to  assume  an  air  of  formal  dignity. 
Somehow     he    found    the    hilarious    under- 
standing  and   quick    intelligence    he  had   ex- 
pected to  have  with  his  ingenious  and  lively 
confederate  missing.     For  his  own  part  he  had 
a  very  constrained  feeling.     Currituck  on  the 
other  hand,  alleged  to  be   so  unobservant,  fol- 
lowed   her   movements   with    such    a  pleased 
avidity  it  seemed  as  if  she  drew  a  tangible  part 
of  him  along  with  her.     She  was  flustered  at 
first,  but  finding  herself  undetected  regained  her 
self-command.     She  directed  sly,  amusing  pan- 
tomime at  her  husband,  served  Carrituck  with 
a     flattering     empressement,     not     free     from 


A   LUNCH  AT  McARTHUR'S.  137 

coquetry  ;  she  stood  about  in  a  variety  of  cap- 
tivating attitudes,  and  showed  a  smiling  inter- 
est in  all  the  conversation. 

"  Don't  smile !  "  telegraphed  McArthur  en- 
ergetically, seizing  a  half-favorable  moment  for 
doing  so. 

"  Seems  an  uncommonly  nice  girl,  that," 
said  Currituck,  when  she  was  again  absent, 
having  been  frowned  down  in  his  levity. 

"  Yes,  Rosette  is  a  rather  good  sort  of  a 
girl,"  languidly. 

"Why,  she's  a  regular  beauty;  don't  you 
think  so  ?" 

"Can't  say  I've  ever  thought  deeply  on  the 
subject,"  said  the  master  of  the  house,  affect- 
ing the  utmost  indifference. 

"You're  a  cool  fellow  to  trust  yourself  this 
way.  It  wouldn't  be  safe  for  me  ;  it  wouldn't, 
I  assure  you." 

"  You  were  saying,  in  ranching  now  the  pro- 
fits are  much  reduced?"  with  a  yawn. 

"  Looks  nice  enough  to  eat  with  a  spoon," 
Currituck  persisted  incorrigibly.  "  Won- 
derfully refined  way  with  her  —  nice  voice 
too." 


1 3  S  A   L  UNCH  A  7 '  McA  k  7  //  UR  '  S. 

"  Don't  sj>eak  ! "  signaled  McArthur  to  the 
maid  with  yet  greater  energy  than  before. 

"  As  I  recollect  you,  you  used  to  be  very  in- 
different to  petticoats,"  he  continued  with 
Currituck. 

•  "Oh,  bless  you!  that's  a  mistake.  I  may 
not  have  shown  it,  but  I  have  a  great  eye  for 
good  looks." 

How  could  McArthur  have  been  so  in 
error?  His  wife's  conduct  was  doubly  prepos- 
terous. If  he  could  only  have  seen  her  in 
time,  how  peremptorily  he  would  have  put  a 
stop  to  any  such  business. 

''  If  ranching  be  so  much  overdone,  it  makes 
these  Inwood  lots  all  the  more  promising,"  he 
said,  making  another  push  to  change  the  con- 
versation. 

The  fictitious  Rosette  here  entered  with  a 
tray  of  sweetbreads  and  green  peas.  It  was 
rather  heavy  for  her  delicate  wrists,  and  be- 
sides an  end  of  the  door-curtain  embarrassed 
her.  Mr.  Currituck  gallantly  leaped  up  and 
relieved  her,  taking  the  tray  from  her  hands 
and  setting  it  upon  a  side-table.  He  resumed 
his   place,   however,  with  a  somewhat  shame- 


A   LUNCH  AT  McARTHUR'S.  139 

faced  air  as  if  he  had  forgotten  himself.  This 
capped  the  climax. 

The  host  felt  it  was  high  time  to  take  a  vig- 
orous step  in  the  direction  of  keeping  up  the 
illusion,  or  all  would  be  lost.  He  looked  for 
an  opportunity  and  presently  found  one. 

"  Rosette,"  he  exclaimed  sharply,  "  do  be 
more  careful  how  you  serve  that  salad  ;  you 
have  rubbed  the  bowl  against  Mr.  Currituck's 
collar !  " 

She  was  serving  the  salad  properly  in  every 
particular,  but  she  was  startled  by  this  sudden 
admonition ;  so  was  Currituck,  who  threw  up 
his  hand.  She  let  go  the  handsome  china 
bowl,  and  it  fell  to  the  floor  with  a  crash, 
breaking  in  a  dozen  pieces. 

"  There,  that  will  do,"  said  McArthur,  loath- 
ing himself  at  this  unlooked-for  result.  "  You 
may  go  now ;  don't  come  in  again  till  you  are 
called." 

"  Oh,  I  beg — "  interposed  Currituck.  "  It 
was  my  fault — it  must  have  been.  We  can't 
get  on  without  so  lovely — that  is.  so  excellent 
a  waitress." 

"  Oh,    if  you    wish    it,   to   be    sure !  "    re- 


I40  A    LUNCH  AT  McAHTNUR'S. 

sponded  McArthur,  with  strongly  satirical 
meaning. 

But  the  spirit  had  gone  out  of  the  adven- 
ture for  Mrs.  McArthur.  She  went  to  the 
kitchen  and  wept  bitterly  over  the  reprimand 
and  her  salad  bowl.  She  presented  herself 
after  this  but  briefly. 

When  she  was  in  the  room  Mr.  Currituck 
was  almost  as  much  flustered  as  she.  She 
brought  him  cheese,  and  he  absently  slid  off  a 
whole  Camembert  upon  his  plate,  as  if  it  had 
been  an  ice.  He  squeezed  orange  juice  in 
his  coffee,  and  put  mustard  on  his  brandy- 
peaches. 

The  two  men  retired  to  the  little  study  to 
enjoy  a  smoke  before  setting  out  on  their 
quest. 

"  Isn't  she  somebody  out  of  the  common  ? 
Isn't  she  a  superior  person  in  some  way  ?  "  the 
guest  began  anew. 

"Who?"  asked  McArthur,  still  playing  his 
ineffectual  game  of  indifference. 

"  Your  Rosette,  the  Hebe  who  condescends 

;to  serve   you,   unworthy    that  you    are,  with 

those  hands,  that  shape,  that  blooming  color, 


A    LUNCH  AT  McARTHUIVS.  141 

those  dark  eyes,  full  of  a  merry  yet  languish- 
ing archness." 

"  Languishing  archness  ?  "  Oh,  Mrs.  Mc- 
Arthur  should  hear  of  this  to  her  cost. 

The  victim  replied :  "  Mrs.  McArthur  likes 
to  have  somebody  respectable  about  her.  Her 
references  are  good,  if  that  is  what  you  mean  " 
— though  you  can't  put  much  trust  in  refer- 
ences, either,  for  people  will  sign  almost  any 
thing  nowadays." 

"No;  but  hasn't  she  good  connections.'* 
Isn't  she  in  reduced  circumstances?  Hasn't 
she  aspirations  above  her  station — and  that 
sort  of  thing?" 

"  Not  unless  it  be  to  put  up  the  price  of 
crockery ;  I  suspect  her  of  being  in  league 
with  the  manufacturers. — You  saw  for  your- 
self." 

"  Do  you  know  there's  a  lot  of  nonsense  in 
our  talk  about  '  station,'  here  in  America. 
There  is  and  can  be  but  one  station,"  said  the 
visitor,  in  a  philosophizing  way. 

"  I  believe  he  fell  wildly  in  love  with  you," 
said  McArthur  to  his  wife  on  returning  home 
that  evening. 


142  A    LUNCH  AT  McARTH UK'S. 

"  I  appreciate  the  distinguished  compliment. 
As  he  is  to  sail  again  in  a  day  or  two,  I  sup- 
pose it  can  do  no  great  harm." 

"  Yes ;  but  I  had  to  keep  checking  his  im- 
pertinent allusions  to  you  all  the  afternoon, 
and  I  suppose  he's  so  incensed  with  me  there's 
an  end  of  all  our  business  transactions." 

"Oh,  I  hope  not." 

"  I  thought  you  were  going  to  'make  a  guy* 
of  yourself?  " 

"  I  changed  my  mind  about  it,  and  I  thought 
I  would  give  you  a  pleasant  surprise.  It  isn't 
very  nice  to  have  to  make  yourself  look  ugly 
before  strangers,  the  first  time.  How  would 
yoji  like  it  ? — And  it  was  much  more  to  your 
credit  to  have  a  neat  servant  than  a  frowsy 
one." 

"  But  you  were  so  confoundedly  cAtc ;  you 
don't  see  that  kind  of  thing  outside  of  opera 
bouffe.     You  encouraged  his  forwardness." 

'■  You  never  want  another  man  to  look  at 
me — not  the  most  insignificant ;  I've  often 
noticed  it,"  and  she  sobbed. 

*'  No,  no,  dearest ;  I  only  mean  that — if — 
under  the  circumstances — you  had  been  a  lit- 


A    LUNCH  AT  McARTHUR'S.  143 

tie  more  like  real  life.  Why,  he  said,  him- 
self, you  were  sweet  enough  to  eat  with  a 
spoon !  " 

"Z>?V/he  say  that?" 

"  Yes ;  and  that  wasn't  more  than  half  the 
real  truth.  I  had  to  appear  to  scold  you,  you 
know,  to  keep  up  appearances ;  I  was  in  mortal 
dread  lest  he  should  find  us  out." 

"  She  was  mollified  by  the  compliment. 
"Yes,  I  understood  that  perfectly,"  she  said, 
*'  But  what  did  you  mean  by  telling  me  he  was 
indifferent  to  women  ?  He's  one  of  the  most 
susceptible  men  I  ever  saw." 

"  I  thought  so,  hang  it !  That  is  one  of  the 
mistakes  we  make  about  our  friends." 

In  the  midst  of  this  there  was  a  jingle  at  the 
door-bell  and  Cousin  Rosette  came  running  up 
the  stairs  in  her  usual  lively  way. 

So  amused  was  this  real  Rosette  when  she 
heard  all  that  happened,  that  no  seriousness  of 
mood  could  stand  before  her  irresistible  gale  of 
merriment. 

"You  don't  half  appreciate  it,  not  half,"  she 
declared,  overwhelming  them  with  reproaches 
for  not  having  made  her  a  participant.     "  Oh, 


144  A    LUNCH  AT  McARTHUR'S. 

why  didnt  you  let  me  know?  Why  didn't 
you  take  me  in  it?" 

"  What  low  common  taste ! "  she  com- 
mented presently,  "  Who  would  have  thought 
he  could  be  so  smitten  by  a  mere  servant- 
girl  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  must  say  !  "  protested  Mrs.  McAr- 
thur,  "am  I  a  mere  servant-girl  ?    Do  I  look  it  ?  " 

"  No  ;  that  is  just  where  all  the  trouble  comes 
in ;  you   don't   look  it,"  rejoined  her  husband. 

"Well,  I  hope  notr 

"The  question  is,"  said  McArthur  judicially, 
"  whether  he  ought  to  be  scorned  for  a  low, 
unworthy  passion,  or  admired  for  his  superior 
discernment.  I  fear  we  do  him  injustice. 
Yes,  he  is  entitled  to  the  credit  of  detecting 
true  loveliness  and  refinement  under  every  dis- 
guise. Et  vera  incessu  patuit  dea. — And  the 
veritable  goddess  stood  revealed  by  her  gait." 

"  But  now  what  is  to  be  done?" 

"As  he  is  to  sail  away  somewhere  in  a  day 
or  two,"  said  the  real  Rosette,  "  I  do  not  see 
a  pressing  need  of  doing  any  thing." 

"  I  feel  it  in  my  bones  he  will  return  ;  we 
have  not  got  rid  of  him  yet,"  said  McArthur. 


A   LUNCH  AT  McARTHUR'S.  145 

His  predictions  were  verified.  Currituck  re- 
turned again  in  two  days.  He  rubbed  his 
hands  together,  gazed  about  a  good  deal  in  a 
nervous  way,  and  seemed  to  have  had  no  par- 
ticular object  in  coming.  As  he  was  taking 
leave,  however,  he  darted  suddenly  into  the 
dining-room,  under  pretext  of  looking  once 
more  at  a  certain  engraving  there  ;  but  Mrs. 
McArthur  had  been  prepared  for  him,  and  his 
artful  attempt  to  happen  upon  the  person  of 
whom  he  was  in  search  by  strategy  was  frus- 
trated. 

Yet  again  he  came  in  the  same  aimless  way. 
He  said  he  had  postponed  his  sailing  for  a 
week.  As  the  pretty  maid  was  not  visible 
this  time  any  more  than  the  other,  he  inquired 
for  her. 

"  She  is  not  in,"  was  all  the  response  he  re- 
ceived. 

''  Does  she  remember  me  ?  Has  she  spoken 
of  me  since?  It's  a  whim  of  mine  ;  I'd  really 
like  to  know." 

"I  should  judge  you  had  offended  her;  in 
my  opinion,  she  took  a  strong  dislike  to  you," 
McArthur  replied, 


146  A    LUNCH  AT  McAKTHUR'S. 

The  visitor  went  off  in  dudgeon,  and  Mc- 
Arthur  resigned  himself  to  the  loss  of  this 
friend  and  patron  as  inevitable.  He  had 
opened  the  door  himself,  pulling  the  handle 
that  communicated  with  it  from  the  landing 
above,  while  his  wife  had  hastily  betaken  her- 
self to  hiding.  They  began  henceforth  to  re- 
connoiter  all  visitors  from  the  window  before 
admitting  them.  Mrs.  McArthur  hardly  ven- 
tured out-of-doors  at  all  for  a  while,  but  dis- 
patched her  commissions  as  much  as  possible 
by  proxy.  It  was  thought  Currituck  was  seen 
watching  the  house  from  a  distance. 

Currituck  did,  in  very  fact,  watch  the  house 
from  a  distance.  How  tantalizing  not  to  be 
able  to  go  near,  for  fear  of  being  recognized ! 
He  was  rewarded  by  seeing  a  fascinating  per- 
son come  forth  and  enter  occasionally.  Some- 
times she  would  seem  stouter  and  again  more 
slender  than  his  Rosette;  but  there  were  cer- 
tain familiar  things  about  her  in  which  he  could 
not  be  mistaken.  What  a  pretty  hat  and 
jacket  she  wore!  what  excellent  quiet  taste  she 
had  !  Perhaps  these  were  her  mistress'  clothes; 
but  if  so,  undoubtedly  she  wore  them  with  a 


A    LUNCH  AT  Mc ARTHUR'S.  147 

grace  to  which  her  mistress  could  never 
aspire. 

He  dared  to  follow  her  once,  with  great  cir- 
cumspection. She  went  to  a  shabby  quarter, 
and  entered  a  poor  habitation.  From  some 
squalid  children  playing  about  the  entrance  he 
was  just  about  to  inquire  the  name  and  cir- 
cumstances of  the  inmates,  when  she  came 
forth  and  confused  his  plans.  She  supported 
for  a  short  distance  the  steps  of  a  tall,  gaunt, 
old  woman,  in  rusty  black,  who  bore  herself 
with  a  certain  comic  stateliness  and  had  a  very 
bad  cough.  When  she  had  left  this  old 
woman,  he  threw  himself  in  her  way,  at  vari- 
ous cross-walks,  and  looked  earnestly  for  some 
sign  of  her  recognition  ;  but  she  passed  himas 
if  she  had  never  seen  him  before. 

That  afternoon  Rosette  was  again  at  the 
McArthurs'. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  she,  "  I  think  your  Mr. 
Currituck  was  inclined  to  bestow  his  attentions 
on  me  yesterday.  I  am  sure  I  recognized  him, 
from  the  description.  I  went  to  see  my  '  lone 
widow  woman,'  Mrs.  Finnegan,  to  ask  after 
her  cough,  and  he — " 


148  A    LUNCH  AT  McAKTHUR'S. 

"  She  makes  the  most  of  that  cough,  for 
your  benefit,  Rosette.  What  with  paying  her 
board  in  the  country  in  summer,  and  taking  her 
tonics  and  foot-warmers  in  winter,  you  are  a 
perfect  slave  to  her." 

"  That  is  not  the  point  at  present.  Your 
friend  was  over  that  way,  and  perhaps  mistook 
me  for  you.     They  say  we  look  alike." 

"  I  never  could  see  the  resemblance  that 
some  people  make  so  much  of — though,  of 
course,  I  should  feel  greatly  flattered  if  it 
were  so." 

"  Nor  I  either — though  I  should  be  only  too 
highly  delighted  if  I  could  believe  it." 

It  was  dusk  when  the  last  speaker  rose  to  go 
to  her  home. 

"  Rosette,  that  man  may  be  still  hanging 
about,  and  who  knows  but  he  may  speak  to 
you?"  expostulated  the  mistress  of  the  house. 

"  Nonsense !  it  is  only  a  step  ;  and  I  must 
be  at  dinner  on  time  to-day,  to  get  ready  to  go 
out  this  evening.  Have  you  decided  what  to 
wear  at  the  Assembly  Ball  yet  ?  "  And  she  was 
off,  not  waiting  for  an  answer. 

A  portion  of  her  brief  journey  lay  along  the 


A   LUNCH  AT  Mc ARTHUR'S.  149 

massive  granite  wall  that  skirts  the  park-like 
Trinity  cemetery.  The  Tenth  Avenue  cable 
cars  ran  in  the  street,  and  across  the  way  were 
cheerful,  brightly-lighted  shops,  so  that  it  was 
not  a  place  for  alarm,  though  rather  secluded 
and  dim. 

In  this  spot,  so  favoring  adventure,  Currituck 
came  up  and  accosted  her  for  her  cousin. 
There  was  in  truth  no  small  resemblance  be- 
tween the  two.  Rosette  was  of  exactly  the 
same  height  as  her  cousin,  a  year  or  two 
younger,  more  slender,  yet  rounder,  and  had 
the  same  features,  and  they  could  wear  each 
other's  dresses. 

Currituck's  voice  was  uncertain,  and  he 
breathed  hard  in  the  evident  agitation  of  his 
bold  stroke. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  My  purpose  in  ad- 
dressing you  is  most  honorable.  Perhaps  you 
do  not  recognize  me ;  but  I  had  the  pleasure 
of  meeting  you  at — er — at  lunch  at  McArthur's. 
You  were  there,  you  know.  You — I  was  the 
one  that — er— you — " 

Rosette  had  averted  her  head  and  involun- 


»5o  A   LUNCH  AT  McARTHUR'S. 

tarily  quickened  her  pace,  but  Currituck  quick- 
ened his  also. 

"You  must  try  to  excuse  this  method  of 
making  your  acquaintance.  You  will  under- 
stand that,  under  the  circumstances,  I  couldn't 
Very  well  do  anything  else.  My  object  was — 
I — er — wanted  to  say,  you  know,  that  when 
you  broke  that  dish  I  didn't  mind  in  the  least. 
Bless  you,  no,  I  didn't  care  if  you  broke  all 
his  dishes." 

Rosette  managed  to  pull  down  over  her  face 
a  little  veil  she  wore,  answered  only  in  the 
merest  monosyllables,  saying  to  him,  "Yes,  sir," 
and  "  No,  sir."  Her  first  impulse  had  been  to 
fly  from  him,  but  she  felt  a  certain  duty  to  the 
McArthurs  to  keep  up  the  illusion.  Besides, 
she  smiled  to  herself  at  the  good  story  she  was 
going  to  have  to  tell  about  it  afterwards. 

"Isn't  the  work  pretty  hard?  Aren't  you 
tired  of  a  task-master  so  unappreciative  of 
■ — of  such  loveliness?"  the  intruder  continued 
sentimentally.  "  Do  you  know,  there  was 
something  about  you  from  the  first  glimpse  I 
had  of  you — " 

But   they  had    now  traversed   the   obscure 


J   LVKfCH  AT  McARTHUR'S.  151 

part  of  the  promenade  and  come  under  the 
bright  gas-light  again,  and  she  left  him  so 
abruptly  that  it  almost  took  his  breath  away. 

"  I've  had  such  an  adventure !  I've  had  such 
an  adventure  !  "  she  screamed,  bursting  into  the 
McArthurs'  later  in  the  evening  to  tell  them 
all  about  it. 

"  What  do  you  think  was  the  most  ridiculous 
thing  he  said  to  me?  He  took  me  for  a 
daughter  of  the  Finnegan.  He  saw  me  walk 
with  her,  you  know.  He  commended  my  filial 
devotion,  and  said  he  would  be  glad  to  do 
something  to  make  the  condition  of  such  a 
worthy  parent  more  comfortable.  I  was  so 
annoyed,  I  forgot  for  the  moment  my  sup- 
posed character,  and  came  near  getting  you 
into  all  sorts  of  trouble.  'Ah,  only  a  friend?' 
he  answered,  'well,  of  course,  we  all  need  a 
little  society,  but  you  must  have  better.' 
Shades  of  the  Van  Red  Hooks — we  are  dis- 
tantly connected,  you  know — what  an  idea !  " 

"  He  is  a  lunatic!"  exclaimed  McArthur,  im- 
patiently. 

"  Not  at  all ;  he's  a  real  nice  old  thing.  He 
isn't   half  as  bad-looking  as  you  said,  either, 


152  A    LUNCH  AT  McARTHUR'S. 

He  must  be  dreadfully  in  love  with  me  to 
act  so." 

"  In  love  with  you  ?  Well,  I  like  that !  "  re- 
joined Mrs.  McArthur.  "  Why,  he  has  scarcely 
ever  seen  you." 

"  He  calls  me  Rosette,  and  he  has  seen  me  a 
number  of  times." 

"  Who  was  it  that  dressed  up  in  costume  and 
waited  on  him  ?  " 

"  Go  on  ladies,  don't  mind  me !  It's  a  noble 
rivalry.  Can  you  think  of  any  thing  I  can 
do  to  forward  it?"  exclaimed  McArthur. 
"  Currituck  has  apparently  given  up  all  inten- 
tion of  sailing.  Once  you  could  not  drag  him 
here  for  love  nor  money,  and  now  he  is  coming 
all  the  time.  What  is  to  be  done  ?  "  McArthur 
asked  himself  for  the  twentieth  time.  "  If  he 
comes  again,"  he  finally  determined,  "  I'll  settle 
him." 

Currituck  returned,  and  began,  as  with  a 
fixed  purpose  in  his  eye,  to  speak  anew  of  the 
captivating  maid. 

"  She  is  gone;  we  had  to  discharge  her,"  re- 
sponded McArthur,  barely  civil. 

**  You  have  discharged  that  paragon  of  per- 


A    LUNCH  AT  McARTHUR'S.  153 

fection,  that  compendium  of  the  loves  and 
graces  ?  " 

"  Her  airs  and  graces  might  do  very  well  for 
you  who  only  had  to  stand  her  a  few  moments, 
>but  she  was  altogether  too  forward  for  us. 
That  sort  of  person  is  apt  to  be." 

"  That  sort  of  person  !  that — and  where  do 
you  think  I  can  find  her  again?" 

"  I  don't  know.  Perhaps  at  an  intelligence 
office. 

"  Gone  ? — an  intelligence  office  !  "  gasped  the 
visitor. 

"  You  may  have  noticed  I  was  rather  partial 
to  her?"  he  said,  after  some  moments  spent 
in  overcoming  his  agitation. 

"  I  judged  so  from  a  few  small  indications," 
responded  his  hearer  dryly. 

"  I  was  rather  hoping  you  would  help  me 
along  with  the  affair.  That  is  what  I  came  to 
see  about  to-day." 

'*  Oh,  come  now,  brother  Currituck,  you 
really  couldn't  expect  me — a  married  man — to 
encourage  such  an  affair?  What  would  my 
wife  think  of  it  ?  She's  at  home  now,  by  the 
way." 


154  A   LUNCH  AT  McARTHUR'S. 

"  Oh,  I  hope  she  doesn't  know  about  it  yet," 
returned  the  other,  nervously.  "  ]^Iy  inten- 
tions are  quite  straightforward.  Yes,  I  have  at 
length  come  to  that  conclusion — I  want  to 
marry  that  charming  girl !  " 

"To  marry  her?"  echoed  McArthur,  aghast, 
for  the  better  the  intentions  of  the  other,  by 
so  much  the  worse  his  own  predicament. 
"  But,  as  I  was  saying  here  only  the  other  day, 
you  used  to  be  such  a  fastidious  person  in  all 
matters  of — of  social  etiquette  and  conven- 
tion." 

"  But  a  man  can't  knock  around  the  world 
all  these  years  as  I  have  done  without  getting 
a  lot  of  it  taken  out  of  him.  I've  seen  the 
folly  of  many  of  my  old  ideas ;  I  now  go  for 
reality  instead  of  humbugging  imitations." 

"  Heavens  !  "  inwardly  groaned  McArthur, 
"  why  did  we  give  ourselves  so  much  trouble 
with  a  man  like  this,  about  the  lack  of  a  ser- 
vant?" 

"  This  matter  of  station  is  all  mere  caprice 
at  best.  Out  among  the  great  ranching  and 
mining  interests  your  Rosette  would  be  a  reg- 
ular countess   or  duchess ;  there  wouldn't  be 


A    LUNCH  AT  Mc ARTHUR'S.  155 

a  wife  that  could  approach  her,"  Currituck 
went  on. 

"  Why,  yes ;  as  to  looks  she's  well  enough." 

"  That  reminds  me,  I  was  intending  to  ask 
you  about  her  education  ?  " 

"  All  I  know  is  that  another  servant  once 
left  complaining  there  was  too  little  of  it  for 
her.  Fcom  that  I  judge  it's  pretty  de- 
fective." 

"  That  could  be  remedied,  of  course,"  said 
Currituck,  hastily,  "  The  great  thing  is  to 
get  a  person  that  suits  you.  Now  it  may  sur- 
prise you  to  hear  that  I  have  been  going  about 
for  years  with  a  certain  ideal  of  feminine  love- 
liness in  my  head." 

"  It  does  surprise  me  to  hear  it ;  it  does,  in- 
deed. I  had  thought,  as  I  told  you  some  time 
ago,  you  were  an  incorrigible  bachelor,  who 
took  no  interest  in  such  things." 

"  Not  at  all.  I  was  not  in  the  least  anxious 
to  marry — having  early  remarked  the  crying 
evils  of  the  marriage  state — and  I  determined 
I  would  not  do  so  until  I  had  met  with  my 
ideal.  Instead  of  being  callous,  as  you  sup- 
posed, I  have  been  looking  at  women  with  a 


156  A    L  UNCH  A  T  McA  K  7  //  UR  '  S. 

great  deal  of  attention ;  but  my  preconceived 
idea  served  me  as  a  safeguard." 

"But  how  did  you  form  this  ideal?  How 
did  you  happen  to  have  it?" 

"  It  was  composed  much  after  the  manner  of 
the  Greek  slave — the  head  from  one  model,  the 
hand  or  foot  from  another,  and  so  on.  If  I 
saw  anywhere  an  especial  bit  of  perfection,  I 
included  it.  I  said  to  myself, '  I  will  not  marry 
a  woman  without  such  and  such  a  nose.'  '  I 
will  have  jlist  that  lovely  arching  brow  and  no 
other.'  '  I  must  have  that  peculiar  roundness 
and  firmness  of  the  chin.'  '  I  will  take  nothing 
less  than  that  fascinating  poise  of  the  head,' 
and  so  on  throughout.  In  particular  I  wanted 
a  general  smiling  piquancy.  Would  you  be- 
lieve it,  your  beautiful  maid,  who  did  us  the 
honor  to  wait  upon  us  at  luncheon,  united  all 
the  perfections  I  demanded  as  I  had  never  ex- 
pected to  see  them  united  in  the  world.  She 
has  the  figure,  the  nose,  the  eye  to  a  dot." 

"  Good  gracious  !  you  don't  tell  me  so  !  " 

"When  I  had  fully  realized  this  striking  cir- 
cumstance, was  it  wonderful  that  I  should  find 
myself  overpowered?     Ought   I   let  any  mere 


A   LUNCH  AT  Mc ARTHUR'S.  IS 7 

trifle  of  a  matter  of  station  interfere  with  such 
manifest  destiny?  It  was  clear  that  I  was  or- 
dained to  marry  her,  and  I  shall  do  it  or  perish 
in  the  attempt." 

"  Are  you — can  you  be  serious?  " 

"  Serious  to  the  last  degree,"  returned  Cur- 
rituck, with  firmly  pursed  lips. 

The  real  Rosette  here  occurred  to  McArthur  ; 
but  he  had  taken  a  certain  position  and  could 
not  go  back  on  his  own  statements.  He  could 
only  say : 

"  Wait  a  moment.  I  beg  you  to  pause  a 
little.  Certain  types  of  people  are  found  in 
certain  places  just  as  freckled  white  horses  are 
plentiful  in  certain  parts  of  New  Jersey.  I 
have  no  doubt  a  dozen  girls  corresponding  to 
the  type  of  looks  you  prefer  can  be  found 
around  here.  I'll  tell  you  what  I  will  do ;  come 
up  and  go  to  the  Assembly  ball  with  me  next 
Thursday  night,  and  I'll  guarantee  to  introduce 
you  to  one  I  have  in  my  mind's  eye  at  present 
who  fills  the  bill  in  every  particular." 

"  I'll  do  it  ! "  assented  Currituck,  eagerly. 
"  It  will  be  useless,  no  doubt ;  but  I'll  take 
every  favorable  chance,  make   every  effort,  in 


158  A   L  UNCH  A  T  McAR  2HUR  'S. 

the  first  place,  to  carry  the  thing  out  in  a  re- 
gular way." 

McArthur  reported  to  his  wife  and  her  cousin 
what  had  taken  place. 

"  Since  he  is  only  in  love  with  a  type,  the 
thing  to  do  is  to  introduce  him  to  Rosette, 
who  corresponds  to  it,  and  let  him  marry  her. 
Then  we  will  own  up  and  get  out  of  the 
scrape." 

"  Let  Rosette  have  something  to  say  about 
it  for  herself,"  put  in  that  young  woman, 
sharply. 

"  He  is  an  unexceptional  parti,  rich,  edu- 
cated, traveled,  and  gallant,  as  you  see,"  per- 
severed McArthur.  "Your  affair  with  young 
Tompkins  is  fortunately  off  just  now,  I  believe, 
and  Currituck  will  make  exactly  the  husband 
for  you.  It  will  be  an  excellent  thing  all 
around." 

"  I'm  not  to  be  disposed  of  as  a  sample  of 
a  peculiar  type  of  female,  thank  you  !  And, 
while  we  are  on  the  subject,  Mr.  Tompkins  is 
not  the  only  admirer  in  the  world,  either." 

"  But  you  said  Mr.  Currituck  was  *  a  real  nice 
old  thing,'  and  you  liked  his  looks," 


A   LUNCH  A 'J'  McARTHUR'S.  159 

"  Now  I  say — if  you  are  so  absurd — I  dont 
like  his  looks,  and  I  wouldn't  take  him  for  a 
gift.  I  shall  not  go  to  the  Assembly  ball  if  he 
is  to  be  there. — I  care  very  little  about  it  any 
way,  and  had  thought  of  going  to  town  in- 
stead." 

"  And  I  know  I  never  could  consent  to  ex- 
plain our  joke  to  him,"  added  Mrs.  McArthur. 
"  I  should  not  be  able  to  hold  up  my  head. 
If  it  hadn't  gone  so  far,  you  know.  And  what 
would  he  think  of  you  as  a  business  man  if  he 
found  you  had  engaged  in  such  a  thing  ?  He 
would  tell  it  everywhere,  and  ruin  you 
utterly." 

"  There  is  something  in  what  you  say. 
Probably  this  must  remain  one  of  those  dark 
secrets  which  we  are  condemned  to  carry  un- 
confessed  to  our  graves.  The  only  other 
thing  remaining  to  be  done,"  said  McArthur, 
"  is  this." 

They  waited  in  suspense  for  his  new  plan. 

"  We  must  now  get  a  servant — a  real  one 
— and  ask  Currituck  to  dinner.  You,"  to  Mrs. 
McArthur,  "  must  be  there  this  time  ;  but, 
whereas  you  were   yourself   before,  now   you 


l6o  A    LUNCH  AT  McARlHVR'S. 

must  really  make  up  into  an  unrecognizable 
character.  Finding  you  at  home,  any  possible 
suspicion  of  his  on  that  score  will  be  allayed  ; 
he  will  see  the  new  servant,  and  be  satisfied 
that  the  fictitious  Rosette  has  really  gone  ;  he 
will  go  to  the  Assembly  with  me,  and  there 
will  be  nobody  corresponding  to  his  ideal. 
Then  at  last  he  will  be  satisfied  of  the  useless- 
ness  of  his  quest  in  these  parts,  and  stay  away 
— perhaps  even  sail  away,  as  he  has  so  often 
promised  to  do — and  leave  us  at  peace  forever- 
more." 

"  Oh,  I  can't  undertake  any  more  masquer- 
ading, after  all  this  experience  has  cost  us," 
objected  Mrs.  McArthur. 

"  It  is  one  of  the  penalties  of  duplicity  that 
it  has  to  go  on.  A  second  step  is  incumbent 
upon  us  to  cover  up  the  first.  Then  I  trust 
we  shall  be  done  with  it  for  good." 

"  But  the  new  servant,  what  will  she  think 
of  my  sitting  at  my  own  table  in  disguise  ?  It 
will  put  us  in  her  power." 

"  We'll  pretend  it's  only  a  little  way  you 
have,  of  a  piece  with  your  humor.  You  must 
do  it  again  some  time  when    there  is  nobody 


A   LUNCH  A  T  McA  RTHUR'S.  1 6 1 

but  ourselves,  and  then  she'll  think  no  more 
of  it." 

"  Alas,  a  third  step ! "  lamented  Mrs.  Mc- 
Arthur,  dolefully. 

She  did  not  at  all  like  the  prospect.  Never- 
theless, she  set  about  engaging  the  servant. 
The  day  she  was  to  have  gone  to  town  for  the 
purpose  she  was  overtaken  by  a  complication 
of  duties,  and  Rosette  volunteered  to  attend 
to  it  for  her. 

"I've  got  to  go,  any  way,"  she  said,  "  to 
match  the  trimming  for  my  braided  skirt  and 
get  some  ribbon  for  the  pug's  collar;  and  I  can 
do  it  just  as  well  as  not." 

'"  Don't  go  to  Clamfoot's ;  they  all  want  at 
least  fifty  dollars  a  month  there,"  said  the 
young  matron  as  she  was  starting.  "  Don't  go 
to  that  Gulthorp's.  It  advertises  as  a  Christian 
training-school,  but  most  likely  all  the  girls 
there  have  just  come  off  Blackwell's  Island, 
instead." 

"Shall  I  try  Brixton's?" 

"  Oh,  horrors !  no  !  I  engaged  six  in  suc- 
cession from  there,  last  time,  and  not  one  of 
them  ever  came.     If  you  hear  the  girl  you  hire 


l62  A    LUNCH  AT  McARTHUR'S. 

speak  of  going  after  her  things,  don't  take 
your  eyes  off  her.  Bring  her  along  on  the 
instant,  or  you'll  never  get  her.  We'll  send 
for  her  wardrobe,  or  she  can  have  mine.  How 
can  they  be  so  unreliable  ?  " 

"  It's   only   a   delicate  native  politeness  on 
their    part,"    suggested     McArthur.      "  They 
don't  like  to  hurt  your  feelings  by  refusing  on 
the  spot,  so  they  merely  leave  you  in  the  lurch. 
I've  often  done  the  same  thing  myself." 
"Gilbert  McArthur,  you  never  have!" 
"Well,  I  mean,  I've  often  felt  like  it." 
"  Don't  be  afraid,  I'll   find  one  somewhere. 
I'll  get  you  a  good  girl,"  called  Rosette  and 
she  hurried  off. 

She  went  to  Mugway's,  on  Fourth  Avenue. 
There  were  but  few  servants  present  as  yet,  it 
being  their  custom  to  take  things  quite  easy  in 
the  morning.  She  therefore  sat  down  to  wait 
for  them,  placing  herself  in  one  of  a  long  row 
of  vacant  chairs  in  such  a  position  as  to  ob- 
serve those  who  came  in.  She  cross-examined 
one  or  two  of  these,  who  asked  her,  in  return, 
"How  many's  in  family?"  "Is  it  a  flat?" 
and  "  Is  it  the  country?" 


A  LUNCH  At  McARTHUR'S.  163 

Then  what  was  her  surprise  to  see  Currituck 
enter! 

He  was  haunting  the  intelligence  offices,  and 
had  seen  her  through  the  window.  She  did  not 
see  him  till  he  was  almost  upon  her.  He  came 
and  stood  before  her  and  said  "Good-morning!  " 
with  an  air  of  profound  respect.  She  first 
turned  her  head  squarely  to  the  right,  then  to 
the  left,  then  bent  it  very  low,  pretending  to 
be  searching  for  something  in  her  pocket,  and 
made  him  no  answer. 

This  embarrassing  conduct  only  defeated  its 
own  end,  for  Mr.  Currituck  was  forced  by  his 
very  awkwardness  to  walk  into  the  next  room, 
where  the  manager's  assistant  sat  at  a  desk. 

"  Who  is  that  girl — at  this  end  of  the  row  of 
chairs?  "  he  asked  the  man;  and  "what  kind 
of  a  place  does  she  want?" 

"  She  ain't  no  girl ;  she's  come  to  get  one, 
herself,"  was  the  reply. 

"Ah  yes,  what  name  did  you  say?"  insinu- 
atingly. 

The  man  glared  at  him  in  suspicion.  He 
nervously  put  on  the  desk  about  twice  the 
usual  fee. 


164  A    LUNCH  AT  McARl'IJUIi'S. 

"  Mrs.  G.  McArthur— Washington  Heights, 
— girl  for  general  housework,"  then  said  the 
agent. 

"  Would  you  mind  my  sitting  down  ?  "  asked 
Mr.  Currituck,  faintly. 

"  Cert'nly — have  a  chair." 

Currituck  drew  up  close  to  him,  and  there 
saw  the  name  and  address,  on  the  register,  with 
his  own  eyes. 

"  You  don't  mean  that  this  is  Mrs.  McArthur 
in  person  ?  "  he  suggested. 

"  I  guess  I've  seen  her  here  often  enough  to 
know." 

To  say  that  Mr.  Currituck  was  astounded 
would  be  putting  it  mildly:  he  was  stricken  with 
veritable  anguish.  He  had  had  a  wild  gleam 
of  exultation  for  a  moment  when  the  man  had 
said — though  he  hardly  believed  him — that  she 
was  not  a  servant ;  and  it  appeared  he  need 
not  make  a  mhalliance  after  all  ;  but  now — she 
proved  to  be  the  wife  of  another ;  she  was 
utterly  beyond  his  reach  ;  all  his  hopes  were  at 
an  end. 

A  light  broke  in  upon  him  too — something 
like  a  true  explanation  of  the  affair — he  was 


A    LUNCH  AT  McARTHUR'S.  165 

the  victim  of  a  masquerade.  "  For  some 
reason  they  are  afraid  to  confess  to  me," 
said  he.  "  All  the  twistings  and  turnings  of 
McArthur,  and  his  pretense  that  he  knows 
somebody  else  corresponding  to  the  same  type 
are  but  subterfuges  to  divert  me  by  little  and 
little  from  the  pursuit."     , 

Rosette  recognized  that  flight  would  now  be 
of  no  avail.  The  two  men  were  looking 
out  at  her  and  discussing  her.  Her  conduct 
had  been  supremely  silly.  She  knew  the  con- 
sideration in  which  Currituck  was  held  by  the 
McArthurs,  as  an  investor  of  funds  at  least, 
and  open  rudeness  to  him  would  not  do,  even 
if  any  policy  whatever  could  be  subserved  by  it. 
She  saw  herself  placed  in  an  extremely  difficult 
position ;  the  moment  for  an  explanation  of 
some  sort  was  at  hand,  and  the  whole  respon- 
sibility of  betraying  the  secret,  or  of  persisting 
in  it  against  all  semblance  of  probability,  was 
to  be  thrown  upon  her  slender  shoulders.  She 
endeavored  to  decide  upon  some  plan  of  action, 
but  before  any  was  evolved,  Mr.  Currituck  came 
out  and  again  accosted  her,  with  a  very  grave 
mien. 


l66  A    LUNCH  AT  McARTHUR'S. 

"  I  wish  to  apologize  for  my  inexcusable 
error,"  said  he.  "  May  I  also  offer  my  profound 
thanks  for  all  the  pains  you  have  been  good 
enough  to  take  for  my  entertainment.  I  did 
not  know  till  just  now  that  you  were  Mrs. 
McArthur." 

"  But  I  am  not.  I  am  nothing  of  the  kind," 
rejoined  Rosette,  much  alarmed. 

"  Can  I  be  mistaken  ?  the  manager  so  in- 
formed me — "  and  he  look  backed  uncertainly 
in  that  direction.  "  Did  you  not  come  here  to 
engage  a  servant  for  the  McArthur  family?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  indeed  ;  that  is  true." 

"  But  if  you  were  a  servant  just  discharged 
yourself  for  forwardness  and  impudence,  you 
wouldn't  be  likely  to  do  that." 

The  supreme  moment  had  evidently  come ; 
mendacity  now  could  only  make  matters  worse. 

"  I  am  a  cousin  of  theirs,"  said  Rosette  as 
demurely  as  possible.  "  I  am  Miss  Dawson. 
Mrs.  McArthur  couldn't  come,  and  I  am  here 
for  her." 

"  Then  you  were  the  one  ?  "  cried  Currituck, 
his  heart  giving  a  new  bound,  this  time  of 
genuine  delight.     She  was  not  a  servant,  but  a 


A   LUNCH  AT  Mc ARTHUR'S.  167 

person  of  education ;  she  was  unmarried,  and 
presumably  free.  "  Oh,  I  see  it  all,"  he  went  on 
rapturously :  "  Mrs.  McArthur  was  away,  and 
iox  2i.\oV&' you  personated  the  maid? — Don't 
let  it  distress  you,  I  beg.  When  I  thought 
you  were  Mrs,  McArthur,  you  cannot  know 
the  profound  depression  I  felt,  now  happily  re- 
moved.— How  should  you  know  anything  of 
it?"  he  hastened  to  add. 

"  But  it  was  not  I  ;  I  was  not  there,  and  Mrs. 
McArthur  was  not  away,"  she  persisted. 

"  You  are  not  Mrs.  McArthur  ?  you  were 
not  .there?  you  had  no  knowledge  of  it,  and 
yet  you  understand  my  words,  and  I  should 
know  you  among  a  million.  How  can  I  recon- 
cile all  this?" 

Even  on  the  theory  of  many  examples  of  the 
same  type,  suggested  by  McArthur,  he  was 
mystified.  Had  he  not  seen  this  very  person 
go  in  and  out  ?  Had  he  not  held  interviews 
with  her  ? 

"  Is  your  memory  so  good  ?  "  asked  Rosette. 

"  Yes,  for  people — especially  for  one  who 
has  made  so  overpowering  an  impression.  For 
localities,  no  :  I    hunted  high  and  low,  for  in- 


1 68  A    LUNCH  AT  McARTHUR'S. 

stance,  to  find  again  the  place  where  you  went 
to  see  those  poor  people.  If  I  could  have 
found  that,  most  likely  all  this  confusion  could 
have  been  avoided." 

"  You  will  not  admit  a  defective  memory, 
then?" 

"  Not  unless  I  suppose  you  and  Mrs.  McAr- 
thur  to  look  remarkably  alike,  which  is  absurd, 
— such  coincidences  don't  really  happen.  And 
besides,  did  you  not  confess  you  broke  the 
china  bowl  at  the  lunch  }  " 

"  I  did  not  confess,"  flushing  ;  "  I  only  did 
not  deny  it.  I  felt  bound  to — to  help  keep  up 
an  illusion. — And  let  me  tell  you  such  coinci- 
dences do  really  happen." 

"  What  happiness  if  I  could  only  go  back 
with  you.  Let  us  present  ourselves  before  them 
together  and  tell  them  how  much  I  appreciate 
their  joke.  I  really  never  heard  anything  bet- 
ter ;  ha  !  ha  !    particularly  since  it — " 

"  No,  no  ;  you  mustn't  betray  me  ;  they  would 
never  forgive  me.  The  secret  must  rest  with 
us  alone." 

"  Let's  argue  it :  I've  got  to  know  some  time, 
haven't  I — unless  Mrs.  McArthur  keeps  out  of 


A    LUNCH  AT  McARTHUK'S.  169 

sight  forever,  or  I  leave  the  country.  I  don't 
want  to  do  that,  for  to  tell  you  the  truth  I  had 
been  thinking  of  a  few  operations  with  McAr- 
thur  that  would  help  us  both  in  a  financial 
way.  Besides,  what's  the  use  of  turning  a  jolly 
thing  into  a  funeral.  It's  capital,  I  tell  you, 
capital ! " 

His  laugh  may  have  had  a  slightly  hollow 
sound,  but  there  was  no  malice  in  it. 

"  But  a  servant  ?  "said  Rosette  ;  "  I  dare  not 
go  back  without  one,  after  this." 

"  I  know  of  a  perfect  treasure,  one  who'll 
live  in  a  flat,  or  a  light-house,  or  up  in  a  balloon 
if  need  be,  and  the  less  wages  you  pay  her 
the  better  she  likes  it.  By  great  good  luck  I 
happened  to  see  her  in  the  last  intelligence 
office  I  called  at.  We'll  take  her  along  as  a 
peace  offering." 

Currituck  ingratiated  himself  so  well  with 
her  on  their  way  homeward  that  Rosette  had 
determined  she  would  go  to  the  Assembly  Ball 
after  all. 

The  surprise  of  the  McArthurs  on  seeing 
them  walk  in  together  may  well  be  imagined. 
Mrs.  McArthur,  at  first  about  to  take  flight. 


I70  A   LUNCH  AT  McARtHUR^S. 

was  stopped  and  met  with  the  disclosure,  which 
— so  well  satisfied  was  she  with  her  respite  from 
further  deception — she  welcomed  it  with  posi- 
tive joy. 

"  Honors  are  easy,  old  fellow;  honors  are 
easy.  It's  six  of  one  and  half  a  dozen  of  the 
other,"  cried  Currituck  to  McArthur  in  a 
hearty  way. 

"  Why,  if  you  think  so  ;  easy  they  are,"  re- 
sponded McArthur,  with  equal  good-nature. 

The  comic  note  was  struck,  and  one  item 
aiter  another  of  the  general  embarrassment  was 
recalled  and  laughed  over  to  the  heart's  con- 
tent of  all. 

In  the  midst  of  this  Currituck  was  looking 
inquiringly  at  Rosette,  comparing  her,  feature 
by  feature,  with  her  cousin.  There  was  a  good 
deal  of  hopefulness  in  his  look  too. 

"The  resemblance  is  nothing  like  so  close  as 
I  would  have  sworn  to  in  advance,"  said  he, 
"and  it's  not  to  my  credit  for  accuracy. — Still, 
there's  quite  resemblance  enough  ;  and,  if  I'm 
not  mistaken,  this  lunch  at  McArthur's  is  going 
to  be  one  of  the  very  best  things  that  ever  hap- 
pened to  me." 


NEAR  THE  ROSE. 


IT  was  in  Stambul,  the  peculiarly  Turkish 
quarter  of  Constantinople.  The  men  had 
met  at  the  foot  of  the  venerable  Burnt  Pillar 
of  Constantine  the  Great. 

"  By  the  way,  Lysicrates  Stauros,  a  word 
with  you  !  "  said  the  elder  of  the  men,  turning 
back  as  if  struck  by  a  sudden  thought  :  "Can 
you  tell  me  anything  about  Pandeli  Panjiri  ?  " 

"  He  has  quite  recovered  ;  his  illness  was 
nothing  serious ;  he  has  been  about,  as  usual, 
for  some  little  time,"  replied  the  other. 

He  found  himself  considerably  surprised  at 
being  thus  addressed,  for  the  questioner  was 
the  Armenian  Croesus,  Agob  Oglou,  and  he 
but  a  young  clerk  in  a  broker's  oflfice  on  the 
Stock  Exchange. 

"  I  thought  I  would  ask,  as  I  see  you  with 
him  rather  often,"  said  Agob  Oglou,  indiffer- 


172  NEAR    THE   ROSE. 

ently,  while  a  searching  glance  showed  a  much 
greater  interest  than  his  words  expressed. 

"  We  are  relations ;  my  mother  and  Mr. 
Panjiri  are  cousins  ;  I  am  treated  almost  like 
one  of  the  family." 

"Ah,  cousins?"  murmured  the  merchant 
when  going  away,  "  that  is  it ;  then  it  may  not 
mean  so  much  after  all." 

He  crossed  the  bridge  of  the  Sultana  Valide 
amid  a  glorious  prospect,  swimming  in  light 
and  colors,  and,  paying  but  small  heed  to  this 
or  to  the  picturesque  tide  of  travel  ever  going 
and  coming  upon  it,  went  to  his  home  at  Pera. 
There  he  threw  himself  down  in  his  sachiis- 
chiri,  the  bay-window,  to  reflect. 

There  was  nothing  heroic  about  Agob  Oglou, 
either  in  looks  or  disposition.  He  was  small, 
pock-marked,  slow  in  speech  and  diffident  in 
manner.  His  father  had  left  him  at  the  age 
of  thirty-seven  master  of  a  great  business  in 
which  he  was  almost  wholly  absorbed.  He  had 
a  box  at  the  opera  in  which  he  hardly  ever  set 
foot,  and  his  summer  palace  at  the  Princes 
Islands  might  as  well  have  belonged  to  some- 
body else.     It  would  be  difficult  to  say  in  just 


NEAR    THE  ROSE.  1 73 

what  the  amusements  of  this  humdrum  Croesus 
consisted.  If  he  occasionally  went  to  some 
entertainment  at  the  house  of  a  rich  brother 
merchant,  even  there  it  was  rather  to  talk  over 
business  matters  in  a  corner  than  to  avail  him- 
self of  the  festal  opportunities  offered. 

On  Sundays  and  holidays  he  looked  over 
papers  at  leisure  in  his  bay-window.  This  was 
the  place  where  the  women  of  a  household 
usually  sat,  in  pleasant  gossip,  with  their  em- 
broidery ;  but  there  were  no  women  now  in  the 
house  of  Agob  Oglou.  Even  his  mother,  who 
had  presided  over  the  establishment  till  lately, 
was  dead,  and  he  was  very  much  of  an  old 
bachelor  indeed. 

One  day,  while  sitting  in  his  sachnischiri,  he 
saw  a  beautiful  girl  enter  the  Armenian  church 
of  Saint  Agob,  across  the  way.  Then  as  his 
papers  did  not  confine  him  too  closely,  he 
watched  for  her  to  come  out  again.  He  rather 
wondered  why  he  had  never  noticed  her  before, 
but  it  was,  in  fact,  her  first  visit  there,  having 
just  left  school,  a  French  school  at  Pancaldi, 
where  she  had  been  educated.  He  formed  the 
habit  of  looking  for  her  every  Sunday.     Some- 


174  NEAR    THE  ROSE. 

times  she  came  with  adult  members  of  her  fam- 
ily, sometimes  with  young  children,  sometimes 
though  rarely,  alone.  There  was  also,  occasion- 
ally, a  young  man  along,  whom  he  remem- 
mered  as  a  clerk  presenting  drafts  at  his  count- 
ing-room from  the  Stock  Exchange.  The 
presence  of  this  young  man^  after  his  interest 
had  become  fully  aroused,  occasioned  him  keen 
pangs  of  jealousy. 

After  this  process  of  watching  had  gone 
on  for  quite  a  while,  his  great  house  began 
to  seem  lonesome  to  him.  He  would  walk 
through  the  spacious  parlors,  the  music-room, 
the  upper  chambers,  and  surprise  himself 
thinking  how  much  pleasanter  all  that  would 
be  with  just  the  right  kind  of  a  mistress  over 
it — such  a  one,  for  instance,  as  the  sweet 
young  girl  across  the  way. 

How  perfectly  enchanting  she  was !  Her 
luxuriant  hair  and  lustrous  dark  eyes  had  the 
loveliest  tones  of  hazel-brown  in  them ;  her 
skin  was  white  as  milk  ;  she  had  a  vivacious 
and,  at  the  same  time,  entirely  modest  manner. 
It  was  her  intelligent  liveliness  that  particu- 
larly pleased  Agob,  as  the  women  of  his  own 


NEAR    THE  ROSE.  175 

nation,  those  he  knew  the  best,  were  apt  to  be 
rather  slow  and  heavy ;  they  appealed  to  the 
senses  but  not  so  much  to  the  intellect.  But, 
beyond  all,  what  a  delicious  smile  it  was  that 
seemed  forever  hovering  about  the  corners  of 
her  perfect  mouth,  and  just  ready  to  break 
forth.  When  she  gave  it  its  own  way  it  illum- 
ined the  shadows  of  the  dark  porch,  and  even 
gave  a  touch  of  brightness  to  the  gloomy 
priests  with  their  heavy  beards  and  high  black 
hats,  who  appeared  there  at  the  head  of  pro- 
cessions. All  this  could  be  seen  even  from  a 
distance,  but  Agob  did  not  fail  to  see  it  from 
close  quarters  also.  He  crossed  over  and 
took  his  place  among  the  crowd  of  wor- 
shipers, pressing  up  as  close  to  her  as  pos- 
sible, and  looking  for  small  signs  of  her  favor 
— of  which  it  must  be  confessed  he  got  very 
few. 

It  did  not  consist  with  his  peculiar  depth  of 
reserve  to  intrust  his  secret  even  to  his  very 
prudent  servant,  but  he  made  a  few  judicious 
inquiries  on  his  own  account.  He  took  much 
credit  to  himself  for  the  way  he  had  managed 
the  casual  meeting  with  Lysicrates    Stauros, 


176  NEAR    THE  ROSE. 

which  bade  fair  to  clear  away  the  last  impedi- 
ment to  a  definite  conclusion. 

"  I  read  clearly  in  his  face  that  he  is  in  love 
with  her,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  but  I  could  see 
just  as  well  that  he  has  no  established  footing 
nor  assured  prospect  of  success.  There  is  noth- 
ing to  prevent  my  seeking  the  hand  of  Panjiri's 
beautiful  daughter  if  I  want  to,"  he  concluded. 
"  Now,  do  I  want  to  ?  " 

Accordingly  he  reflected  and  reflected  and 
reflected.  His  wrestlings  consumed  not  merely 
the  remainder  of  the  afternoon,  but  a  very  lib- 
eral share  of  the  evening  as  well.  He  had 
allowed  himself  to  become  so  dry  and  brittle 
an  old  stick,  as  it  seemed,  only,  when  his  time 
came,  to  be  the  noore  easily  ignited. 

The  clerk,  Lysicrates,  the  same  evening,  made 
the  meeting  with  Agob  Oglou  a  pretext  for  still 
another  of  the  visits  to  Pandeli  Panjiri's  family, 
which  an  uneasy  conscience  made  him  fear 
were  not  quite  as  well  received  as  formerly. 
He  was  glad  to  have  something  in  the  way  of 
a  special  message  to  talk  about  to  the  old 
folks. 

Pandeli  Panjiri,  the  shipping  agent,  occupied 


NEAR    THE  ROSE.  177 

a  handsome  apartment  in  the  Avenue  du  Grand 
Opera,  the  West  End  of  Pera.  It  was  rather 
beyond  his  means,  it  is  true,  and  he  would  have 
been  more  prudent  to  live  among  his  compa- 
triots in  the  distinctively  Greek  quarter  of  San 
Dimitri,  but  he  was  a  man  of  sanguine  dispo- 
sition and  fond  of  the  good  things  of  this 
world.  "  Let  us  live  while  we  live,"  he  would 
say.  He  had  a  large  family,  chiefly  daughters, 
to  bring  up,  and  only  slender  resources  to  do 
it  with.  But  there  was  one  thing  to  be  said  of 
all  the  children  which  was  the  next  best  to  for- 
tune :  they  were  comely,  robust,  had  scarcely 
ever  known  a  day's  sickness  in  their  lives,  they 
inherited  a  hopeful  temperament  from  both 
father  and  mother,  and  were  endowed  with  the 
happy  faculty  of  making  friends  wherever  they 
went. 

When  Lysicrates  entered  the  house  that 
evening  most  of  the  daughters  were  gathered 
round  a  large  center-table,  playing  dominos.  It 
was  a  chilly  night,  and  beneath  the  table  was  the 
usual  brazier  of  hot  coals,  the  warmth  of  which 
was  kept  in  by  the  folds  of  an  ample  table- 
cover,  the  tandouri.     He  exchanged  meaning 


178  NEAR    THE  ROSE. 

glances  with  Urania,  and  being  invited  to  join 
the  game,  furtively  pressed  her  hand  several 
times  under  the  tandouri.  He  commended 
himself  to  the  young  Olympia,  by  a  present  of 
rakat  lokoum,  fig-paste,  and  to  Thekla  by  akid^, 
lemon-drops,  both  of  a  particularly  choice  vari- 
ety— and  which,  not  to  arouse  embittered  jeal- 
ousies, they  were  immediately  obliged  to  share 
with  Yessamina,  Aspasia,  the  urchin  Pericles, 
Anais,  and  even  with  baby  Calypso,  in  her 
nurse's  arms. 

The  Kyrios,  that  is  to  say  simply  "  Mr." 
Panjiri,  explained  to  the  circle  the  importance 
of  the  personage  who,  as  reported  by  the  clerk, 
had  so  kindly  inquired  after  his  health. 

"  It  is  the  more  courteous  of  him  too,"  he 
said,  "  since  I  have  but  the  slightest  personal 
acquaintance  with  him.  No  doubt,"  compla- 
cently, "  he  has  heard  of  me  by  reputation. 
Well,  it  is  a  good  thing  for  all  of  us  to  take  a 
little  interest  in  our  neighbors,  in  this  world." 

"  I  know  him,"  spake  up  the  pretty  Urania, 
tartly,  "  if  you  say  he  lives  in  that  fine  house 
across  the  way  from  St.  Agob's  Church.  He 
is  the  ugly  little  man  who  stares  at  me  so,  and 


NEAR    THE  ROSE.  i79 

sometimes  pushes  up  so  close  to  me  I  hardly 
know  what  to  do.  One  would  think  he  had 
never  seen  a  girl  before.  I  would  often  like  to 
slap  him." 

She  broke  out  into  a  melodious  laugh  at  the 
absurdity  of  the  idea,  in  which  all  the  younger 
sisters  gayly  joined,  while  the  Kyria,  their 
mother,  tried  to  explain  that  when  men  looked 
impertinently  at  girls  it  was  often  the  latter's 
own  fault. 

"  I  begin  to  understand  the  secret  of  Mr. 
Agob  Oglou's  interest,"  said  the  broker's  clerk 
to  himself,  and  he  fell  to  chewing  the  ends  of 
his  silky  mustache  in  a  gloomy^  reverie. 

He  was  a  handsome  young  fellow,  partly  of 
French  extraction.  He  had  been  sent  to  Paris 
to  complete  his  education,  and,  on  returning 
thence,  had  begun  commercial  life  at  the  foot 
of  the  ladder,  above  which  point  he  had  not 
climbed  very  far  even  yet.  He  had  fallen  in 
love  with  his  cousin  when  she  came  home  from 
school  on  a  certain  vacation.  She  returned 
his  feeling,  and  they  had  secretly  exchanged 
vows  ;  but  he  was  forever  torturing  himself 
with  the  fear  that  she  would  be  snatched  away 


i8o  nRar  the  rose. 

by  some  one  whose  only  superiority  would  be 
found  to  consist  in  the  cursed  inequality  of 
fortune. 

Toward  ten  o'clock  he  created  a  diversion  by 
going  out  and  buying  a  supply  of  semit,  the 
sweet  cakes  which  the  semitji  hawked  around, 
about  that  hour,  carrying  them  ringed  upon  a 
long  rod.  The  Kyrias  taste  for  this  homely 
confection  availed  him  a  short  extension  of 
his  stay,  but  no  sooner  were  the  cakes  eaten, 
than  the  Kyrios,  in  bluff,  unceremonious  fash- 
ion, bundled  him  out  of  the  house,  saying  it 
was  high  time  all  good  folks  were  in  bed. 

A  little  after  this,  the  watchmen  in  the  street 
beat  their  staves  loudly  upon  the  pavement, 
and  cried  :  "  Yunghen  var  !  Yunghen  var  !  " 
There  is  a  fire  !  There  is  a  fire  !  The  engines 
ran — it  was  somewhere  in  the  neighborhood — 
and  for  a  while  a  perfect  pandemonium  pre- 
vailed. 

No  sooner  was  this  over,  than  Panjiri  was 
once  more  defeated  in  his  efforts  to  secure 
repose,  by  the  announcement  of  a  visitor. 

"  Are  you  keeping  Ramadan  [the  Mussul- 
man Lent]  ?     Do  you  fast  all  day  and  pass  the 


HEAR    THE  ROSE.  i8l 

night  in  revelling?  "  he  asked,  unable  to  refrain, 
from  venting  a  certain  ill-humor  even  upon  so 
considerable  a  personage  as  this  visitor  proved 
to  be,  for  it  was  no  other  than  Agob  Oglou. 

"  I  am  an  Armenian,  and  we  do  not  keep 
Ramadan,  as  you  know,"  replied  Agob. 

He  sat  uneasily  while  the  servant  brought  in 
the  customary  tray  containing  coffee,  a  glass 
of  water  and  some  conserve  of  rose-leaves,  and 
his  hand  trembled  in  tasting  these  refresh- 
ments.    Then  he  broke  forth  with  : 

"  I  have  done  myself  the  honor  of  calling,  to 
offer  myself  as  your  son-in-law.  I  desire  to 
marry  your  daughter." 

"  Ha,  that  is  business  indeed  !  And  which 
one  ? 

"  I  was  informed  that  you  had  but  one  of 
marriageable  age.  I  refer  to  the  beautiful 
Urania." 

"  Why,  that's  so,  that's  so  ;  I  might  have 
spared  myself  the  question.  Urania  is  just 
turned  eighteen  and  I  don't  suppose  Olympia 
can  be  more  than  fourteen  yet — I  must  ask  her 
mother.  And  you  could  not  wait  till  to-mor- 
row morning  for  this?  " 


102  NEAR    THE  ROSE. 

"  I  beg  your  indulgence  ;  I  am  the  kind  of 
man  who,  when  he  wants  something,  wants  it 
very  much  indeed.  I  had  only  lately  come  to 
this  conclusion,  and  I  was  anxious  to  carry  it 
out  on  the  instant." 

Panjiri  recognized  in  this  the  same  trait  of 
prompt  energy  by  which  the  great  fortune  his 
visitor  enjoyed  had  been  made.  He  was  in 
secret  greatly  pleased  with  the  proposition, 
though  for  the  sake  of  dissimulating  a  little, 
he  ordered  his  yourgoulidion  to  be  brought, 
and  the  bubbling  of  this  water-pipe  acted  as  a 
soothing  accompaniment  to  the  rest  of  the  dis-* 
course. 

"  I  had  not  thought  of  asking  any  dowry," 
pursued  Agob. 

"Oh,  as  to  that,"  returned  the  other,  waving 
the  stem  of  his  pipe  deprecatingly,  as  though  it 
would  have  been  quite  convenient  to  him  to 
give  some  millions. 

"  And  in  case  I  could  do  you  any  small  favors 
in  a  business  way,  I  should  expect  you  to  look 
to  me  for  them,  you  know." 

"  I  am  in  your  favor,"  said  Panjiri,  now 
abandoning  his  affectations ;    "  I   will  see  my 


NEAR    THE  ROSE.  183 

daughter  and  acquaint  you  with  her  answer  at 
the  earliest  moment.  I  have  not  the  least 
doubt  she  will  agree  with  me  as  to  the  advisa- 
bility of  such  a  union,  and  as  to  the  great  honor 
you  do  her." 

Nor  had  he  any  such  doubt ;  but  when  he 
made  known  to  Urania  the  favor  she  had  met 
with  in  the  eyes  of  Agob  Oglou,  and  the  high 
destiny  in  store  for  her,  he  was  met  by  the 
most  downright  refusal. 

"  Not  marry  him  ?  not  marry  Agob  Oglou  ?  " 
he  exclaimed  in  amazement. 

"  Not  if  his  odious  little  form  were  entirely 
made  up  of  the  gold  on  account  of  which  he 
takes  such  forward  airs." 

Every  argument  was  applied  to  her  in  vain. 
The  Kyrios  did  not  try  coercion  ;  he  was  not 
that  kind  of  a  father.  He  was  forced  to  go  in 
despair  to  Agob  and  tell  him  the  unpalatable 
truth.     Agob  received  it  grimly. 

"There  may  be  another  lover,"  he  suggested. 

"  Another  lover,  in  my  house,  in  a  well- 
regulated  family  like  ours,  without  my  consent? 
I  should  say  not.  I  should  like  to  see  any- 
thing of  that  kind  going  on  indeed." 


1 84  ■         NEAR    THE  ROSE. 

Nevertheless  he  questioned  both  his  wife 
and  Urania.  Almost  at  the  first  mention  of 
the  subject  Urania  burst  into  tears  and  con- 
fessed the  whole  story. 

"  Lysicrates  and  I  are  engaged,"  she  said, 
"  and  he  is  going  to  claim  me  in  a  very  little 
while.  He  has  only  to  wait  till  he  has  made 
his  fortune." 

"Till  he  has  made  his  fortune,"  repeated  the 
parent,  with  unspeakable  disgust  at  this  lack 
of  worldly  wisdom — "  till  he  has  made  his  for- 
tune indeed  !  How  long  has  it  taken  me  to 
make  my  fortune,  and  how  much  fortune  have 
I  got  now?  Oh,  the  young  reprobate,  to  stand 
between  you  and  such  a  brilliant  match  as  that ! 
Let  him  never  dare  to  show  his  face  within 
our  doors  again." 

In  dealing  with  young  Stauros,  however,  he 
postponed  his  rage  to  policy.  Assuming  his 
most  off-hand  genial  manner,  he  said  to  him  ; 

"  It  seems  there  has  been  some  little  senti- 
mental nonsense  between  you  and  Urania — " 

"  Nonsense  ?  " 

"  Yes, — of  course,  you  and  I  as  men  of  the 
world  don't  attach  much    importance  to  that 


NEAR    THE  ROSE.  185 

sort  of  thing ;  all  of  us  have  gone  through 
more  or  less  of  it.  But  Urania  has  a  decidedly 
finical  streak  in  her  composition.  Just  now 
she  feels  a  trifle  embarrassed.  What  do  you 
think  she  has  asked  me  to  do  ?  Why,  to  come 
here  and  see  if  you  could  have  the  slightest  ob- 
jection to  her  accepting  an  offer  of  marriage  from 
the  great  merchant  Agob  Oglou — as  though 
such  an  idea  could  ever  enter  your  head." 

"  Urania  sent  you  to  ask  me  that  ?  "  re- 
sponded Lysicrates  in  an  overpowering  fury. 
His  worst  suspicions  were  confirmed,  and  he 
fell  with  unexpected  ease  into  a  rather  trans- 
parent plot. 

"  She  did  indeed — Heaven  forgive  me !  "  in  a  ' 
mental  aside ;  and  Heaven  would  naturally 
forgive  a  little  artifice  to  a  father  with  so  many 
daughters  to  settle  in  the  world.  "  Will  you 
just  put  down  on  a  bit  of  paper,"  he  added, 
ingratiatingly,  "  that  you  would  have  no  desire 
to  interfere  with  so  advantageous  an  opening? 
It  will  be  more  satisfactory  to  her.  You  see 
what  a  doting  father  I  am.  I  am  often  ready 
to  go  on  errands  even  out  of  all  reason.'* 

*'  I  will  put  it  down  on  monumental  brass,  if 


l86  NEAR    THE  ROSE. 

you  like,"  replied  the  other  with  the  grimmest 
bitterness,  and  he  dashed  off,  in  his  utter  dis- 
dain, a  statement  so  cold  and  matter-of-fact 
that  Urania,  stung  by  this  easy  resignation, 
accepted  Agob  Oglou  at  once. 

Pandeli  Panjira,  who  had  dreaded  a  long  and 
losing  campaign,  was  almost  alarmed  by  the 
success  of  his  simple  stratagem.  It  was  too 
good  to  be  true  ;  it  had  worked  like  a  charm. 
Now  it  was  only  a  -question  of  pushing  on  the 
preparations  for  the  wedding  and  keeping  the 
lovers  carefully  apart  till  that  momentous  date 
was  over. 

The  engagement  ring  was  a  diamond  of  the 
largest  size,  a  jewel  veritably  fit  for  a  sultana. 
It  was  followed  by  a  pair  of  the  loveliest  India 
shawls,  and  almost  every  day  arrived  other 
beautiful  presents — a  small  earnest  of  the  fine 
things  she  was  to  enjoy  in  the  future.  Her 
younger  sisters  tried  on  or  reveled  in  all  the 
superb  gifts,  and  her  mother  was  never  tired 
of  expatiating  upon  the  resources  andpotential 
magnificence  of  her  son-in-law  that  was  to  be. 

All  this  was  so  satisfying  in  the  first  flush  of 
its  novelty  as    to    banish    most    of  her  early 


NEAR    THE  ROSE.  1 87 

repugnance  to  the  match  from  Urania's  head. 
And  nothing  seemed  so  utterly  and  absolutely 
driven  out  of  her  head  as  Lysicrates  Stauros. 
Not  that  she  was  ever  the  vivacious  companion 
to  Agob  Oglou  that  worthy  man  had  dreamed 
of,  but  this  he  laid  for  the  present  to  maiden 
modesty.  Not  being  over-glib  in  talk  himself, 
he  had  often  to  go  away  for  sheer  want  of 
ability  to  keep  up  the  conversation.  By  de- 
grees, too,  her  baffled  feeling  reasserted  itself. 

"  If  he  could  only  be  the  Least  bit  in  the 
world  like  Lysicrates,"  she  repined,  in  a  forlorn 
way ;  and  again  :  "  If  he  would  only  give  me 
engagement-rings  and  shawls  and  a  summer- 
palace  at  Prinkipo,  and  not  come  near  me  him- 
self, I  think  I  could  learn  to  like  him  very 
much." 

Her  air  became  so  dejected,  her  eyes  so 
often  red  with  weeping,  and  her  conversation 
confined  itself  so  persistently  to  only  half- 
audible  "  Yes  "  and  "  No,"  that  Agob  Oglou  at 
last  became  aware  of  the  cause. 

"  I  am  a  sensible  man,"  he  said  to  her  father, 
"  and  it  is  better  for  me  to  give  her  up  now, 
much  as  I  shall  sufier,  rather  than  to  suffer  all 


io«  NEAR    THE  ROSE. 

my  life  long  on  account  of  her  indifference  and 
dislike." 

Panjiri  protested  that  there  must  surely  be 
some  mistake  in  this  matter. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Agob,  "  I  know  when  it  is 
winter  and  when  it  is  summer;  I  can  see  when 
there  is  snow  on  the  head  of  Olympus.  I 
am  a  sensible  man,  and.  I  want  no  unwilling 
bride." 

Pandeli  Panjiri  thereupon  went  to  his 
daughter,  and  said  to  her  in  a  final  way : 

"  Cease  now  your  crying  once  for  all.  The 
decision  is  left  in  your  own  hands.  Agob 
Oglou  wants  no  unwilling  bride.  Tell  him 
that  you  are  happy  in  the  prospect  before  you 
and  will  be  a  good  and  loving  wife  to  him,  or 
give  up  these  all  but  fabulous  prospects  and 
have  done  with  it.  Only  if  you  decide  the 
wrong  way  don't  hold  me  nor  anybody  else 
responsible  for  it  afterward." 

This  perfect  liberty  of  choice  thus  suddenly 
thrown  upon  her  proved  rather  embarrassing. 
She  dried  her  eyes  and  thoughtfully  looked  up 
and  down  and  all  around  as  if  for  aid  in  com- 
ing to    a  .decision.     Agob    Oglou    had  never 


NEAR    THE  ROSE.  1 89 

appeared  to  so  good  advantage  as  in  his 
magnanimous  offer  to  give  her  up.  Whenever 
she  looked  down  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  dia- 
mond sparkling  on  her  white  hand  ;  it  shot  up 
to  her  in  return  bluish  gleams  almost  of  a 
shrewd  human  intelligence. 

"  I  will  be  a  good  and  true  wife  to  Agob 
Oglou,"  she  said,  smiling  sweetly,  as  she  had 
been  used  to  smile  of  old. 

Now  fate,  which  had  so  long  refrained  from 
interfering,  might  well  enough  have  held  off  its 
hands  to  the  end.  But  this  was  not  to  be. 
Urania's  qualms  broke  out  anew,  and  having 
seen  Lysicrates  at  a  distance  haunting  the 
house  forlornly,  she  bribed  her  maid  to  convey 
a  note  to  him.  Now  this  maid  was  in  a  gen- 
eral way  on  the  side  of  youth  and  romance,  as 
all  good  serving-maids  should  be,  but  even  she 
could  not  bear  to  stand  in  the  way  of  so  bril- 
liant a  prospect  for  her  young  mistress.  She 
took  the  missive  to  the  Kyria  instead,  and 
asked  in  an  artless  way  : 

"  Shall  I  deliver  it  at  once,  Kokona  [Mis- 
tress]?" 

"Deliver  it/'  repeated  the  Kyria,  her  brow 


190  NEAR    THE  ROSE. 

dark  as  a  thunder-cloud ;  "  give  it  to  me  this 
instant." 

Urania  explained  in  tears,  that  it  was  only  a 
friendly  word  of  parting  to  Lysicrates,  whom 
it  did  not  seem  fair  wholly  to  neglect,  even 
though  he  had  behaved  so  badly.  Nor  was 
there  much  more  than  this  in  the  contents, 
but  it  was  an  indication  of  a  wavering  mood, 
and  vigilance  was  redoubled. 

This  episode  would  seem  to  have  put  an  end 
to  all  possibility  of  correspondence,  but  on  the 
morning  of  the  ceremony  itself,  Lysicrates 
found  means  of  sending  Urania  a  communi- 
cation by  her  little  brother,  Pericles.  This 
urchin  enjoying  more  freedom  than  usual, 
in  the  excitement  of  the  occasion,  ran  out  to 
gaze  at  one  of  those  small  street  processions 
made  in  honor  of  the  first  day  of  a  young 
Turkish  boy's  attendance  at  school.  While  he 
was  shouting  huzza  !  with  a  gusto  at  the  youth- 
ful hero  of  the  festival,  going  by  on  a  gayly  be- 
dizened donkey,  Lysicrates  slipped  the  note, 
with  the  present  of  a  handsome  penknife,  into 
his  hand,  and  arranged  to  have  him  bring  him 
back  the  answer  under  a  neighboring  archway. 


NEAR    THE  ROSE.  191 

He  magnanimously  offered  to  forgive  all ; 
he  begged  her  to  fly  with  him,  and,  to  that  end, 
to  make  some  pretext  for  coming  down  to  the 
confectioner's,  or  even  to  her  own  door-way,  as 
if  for  a  breath  of  fresh  air.  He  would  have  a  car- 
riage there,  and  snatch  her  away,  if  need  be,  by 
main  force.  The  answer  was  all  the  most  ardent 
lover  could  desire ;  but  this  wild  plan  had 
no  opportunity  of  being  put  in  execution, 
for  by  accident  Pandeli  Panjiri  happened 
upon  his  infant  son  and  heir  just  as  he 
was  delivering  the  reply,  and  he  endeavored 
to  seize  it.  The  two  men  had  a  struggle 
over  it,  in  which  Lysicrates  succeeded  ;  but, 
so  far  as  discovery  was  concerned,  it  was  just 
the  same  as  if  the  result  had  been  the  other 
way. 

In  a  little  while  Lysicrates  Stauros  came 
storming  at  the  door  of  Pandeli  Panjiri,  almost 
beside  himself,  but  he  could  obtain  no  admit- 
tance, and  he  had  sense  enough  to  know  there 
was  nothing  he  could  accomplish  there.  His 
next  resource  was  Agob  Oglou,  and  he  stormed 
even  more  violently  at  the  door  of  the  Arme- 
nian merchant. 


192  NEAR    THE  ROSE. 

"  Admit  him,"  said  Agob  Oglou  to  his  staid 
porter,  YusOf. 

With  his  own  hands  he  was  putting  the  finish- 
ing touches  to  the  bridal  chamber,  and  to  give 
an  additional  point  of  grim  irony  received  the 
visitor  there.  The  sight  of  these  preparations 
— the  modish  upholstery,  the  little  tables  inlaid 
with  ivory  and  pearl,  the  mirrors  framed  in  gold 
and  colors,  the  brazen-columned  couch  with  its 
bespangled  draperies,  all  of  the  freshest  and 
costliest  that  money  could  buy,  served  to  rob 
the  luckless  youth  of  any  small  vestige  of  self- 
control  he  had  brought  with  him-. 

We  must  fight !  We  must  fight !  "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  One  of  us  must  die  to  determine 
to  which  Urania  shall  belong. 

•'  You  overlook  the  trifling  circumstance  that 
she  already  belongs  to  me,"  returned  the 
owner  of  the  mansion,  quite  coolly.  "  She  has 
chosen  me  of  her  own  free  will,  and  we  are  to 
be  married  within  the  hour." 

"  Here  is  her  letter  ;  read  her  opinions  "  ;  and 
the  clerk  thrust  the  missive  in  the  merchant's 
face  with  so  much  violence  that  the  latter 
started  back  in  much  alarm. 


NEAR    THE  ROSE.  193 

On  reading  it,  he  bowed  his  head ;  he  even 
beat  his  hand  against  his  forehead,  in  his  great 
surprise  and  dejection. 

"  It  seems  to  interest  you.  Now  will  you 
give  her  up  to  me?"  said  the  clerk  sneeringly, 
recovering  a  certain  coolness,  and  standing  by 
like  fate,  with  folded  arms. 

"  Upon  her  own  head  be  it — upon  her  own 
head  be  it !  "  almost  screamed  Agob  Oglou. 
"  Why  did  she  not  draw  back  while  it  was  still 
time  ?  Unhappy  jade  that  she  is,  she  shall  go 
on  to  the  bitter  end.  Am  I  to  be  made  the 
laughing-stock  of  all  Pera?  AH  the  devils  in 
Eblis  shall  not  take  her  from  me  now." 

The  proverb  cautions  us  against  the  wrath  of 
a  patient  man,  and  Agob  Oglou  was  one  of  the 
most  patient  of  men.  He  called  his  servants 
and  they  quickly  thrust  Lysicrates  Stauros  out 
of  the  house.  There  the  police  intervened  in  the 
affair,  as  being  now  within  their  province,  and 
marched  off  the  disorderly  looking  figure  they 
laid  hold  upon  to  the  station-house. 

Meanwhile  Urania  had  set  up  in  open  re- 
bellion. "  Patera  and  Mitera  [Father  and 
Mother]  "  she   cried,  "  I  will  not  marry  Agob 


194  NEAR    THE  ROSE. 

Oglou."  She  repulsed  her  maids,  refused  to 
allow  herself  to  be  dressed,  and  the  fine  scheme 
seemed  wholly  at  an  end.  But  the  assurance 
that,  no  matter  what  became  of  Agob  Oglou, 
she  should  never  see  Lysicrates  again,  the  com- 
mands and  appeals  of  her  parents,  even  the 
noise  of  the  controversy,  her  physical  fatigue, 
and  something  imperious — to  a  naturally  ami- 
able character — in  the  fixed  hour  of  the  cere- 
mony so  rapidly  approaching,  at  last  prevailed 
with  her.  Almost  more  dead  than  alive,  she 
dried  her  eyes  and  suffered  her  wedding  gar- 
ments to  be  put  upon  her. 

She  was  conveyed  to  the  bridegroom's  house 
in  a  sedan-chair,  followed  by  her  ten  brides- 
maids, also  in  sedan  chairs,  with  gentlemen 
walking  beside  them.  She  was  the  saddest  of 
all  brides,  yet  very  lovely,  too,  in  her  rich  white 
silk  robe,  over  which  hung  a  veil  of  loose  silver 
threads,  as  if  she  were  some  nymph  of  the 
fountain  seen  through  its  shining  spray.  Agob 
Oglou  received  her  at  the  door  of  his  house, 
and  led  her  to  the  seat  of  honor  in  the  princi- 
pal parlor  above.  She  rose  to  salute  each 
guest   in  turn,    as  etiquette  demanded.     The 


Near  the  rose.  195 

archimandrite  pronounced  his  benediction,  the 
combaro,  or  best  man,  distributed  bon-bons 
among  the  guests ;  and  thus,  while  Lysicrates 
Stauros  (having  been  soon  rescued  from  the 
lock-up)  was  tossing  like  a  lunatic  on  his  bed  in 
his  own  chamber,  under  the  guard  of  vigilant 
attendants,  she  was  made  hard  and  fast  the 
wife  of  Agob  Oglou. 

Now,  according  to  all  good  romancers,  a 
tragedy  of  some  sort  should  here  be  recorded 
— a  fatal  combat  between  the  two  men,  or  at 
least  an  elopement.  But,  whether  former 
romancers  have  sometimes  made  mistakes  or 
whether  this  was  a  very  exceptional  case, 
nothing  of  the  kind  happened.  On  the  con- 
trary, after  no  great  while,  Urania  showed 
every  appearance  of  being  wholly  cured.  She 
made  Agob  Oglou  a  most  excellent  wife. 
There  was  really  nothing  against  him  but  his 
looks,  and  we  know  how  easily  we  get  over  ob- 
jections on  that  score.  Perhaps  she  had  an 
unusually  strong  sense  of  duty,  or  an  uncom- 
mon feminine  talent  for  yielding;  perhaps 
even  the  invincible  obstinacy  Agob  Oglou  had 
shown  in  carrying  her  off  in  spite  of  herself  may 


196  NEAR    THE   ROSE. 

have  won  him  her  regard  :  and  no  doubt  the 
soothing  influence  of  the  ample  luxury  into  the 
lap  of  which  she  had  fallen  had  something  to 
do  with  it.  Tradition  states,  to  be  sure,  that 
she  once  fainted  away.  Her  husband  had 
taken  her  to  the  terrace  caf^  at  the  great 
artillery  barracks  of  Schalil  Pasha,  looking 
down  over  the  Bosphorus,  and  there  Lysicrates 
unexpectedly  came  in.  She  moped,  too,  when 
she  heard  by  the  gossip  of  some  families  she 
met  at  the  hanimam  that  he  had  lost  all  his 
savings  in  a  desperate  effort  to  get  rich.  But 
these,  if  correctly  reported,  were  small  episodes 
at  best,  without  enduring  influence.  She  grew 
buxom  and  comfortable-looking,  her  wonted 
smile  returned,  and  when  she  had  children  to 
enlist  her  attention,  it  is  probable  that  a  score 
of  Lysicrates  could  not  have  shaken  her  alle- 
giance in  the  least. 

The  healing  influence  of  time  also  seemed 
even  more  remarkable  in  the  case  of  Lysicrates 
himself.  What  ?  not  that  Lysicrates  who  had 
written  despairing  verses,  who  had  wandered 
in  the  woods  at  Buyukdere,  which  nourish  the 
springs  of  the  capital,  and  along  the  side  of 


NEAR    THE  ROSE.  197 

Satan's  Current  at  Bebek,  meditating  suicide, 
who  had  called  upon  gods  and  men  to  witness 
his  misery,  and  had  for  a  while  left  the  coun- 
try ?  Oh,  no,  that  we  cannot  believe.  Very 
well !  but  the  proof  of  the  statement  is — and 
probably  little  more  is  needed — that  within 
three  or  four  years  he  became  a  suitor  for  the 
hand  of  the  next  oldest  daughter,  the  charm- 
ing Olympia.  Can  it  be  possible  that  Lysicra- 
tes  desired  to  marry  another  of  the  daughters 
of  Pandeli  Panjiri  ?  Yes,  it  is  true.  He  had 
given  over  his  wildness  of  late,  and  made  by 
no  means  a  bad  start  in  the  business  way  ;  time 
had  thrown  a  haze  over  the  old  disturbance ; 
he  conciliated  Panjiri,  apparently  dismissing 
all  resentment,  and  the  astute  shipping-agent, 
who  had  always  had  some  little  compunctions 
about  the  past,  met  him  half-way,  and — now 
that  things  were  looking  up  with  him — thought 
him  a  very  good  fellow. 

What  is  more,  Lysicrates  even  went  to  Ura- 
nia to  induce  her  to  aid  him  with  her  sister. 
She  involuntarily  sighed  a  little  over  such  fick- 
leness, but  she  felt  that  compensation  was 
justly  due  him,  and  was  glad  if  she  might  now 


198  NEAR    THE  ROSE. 

have  some  small  part  in  bringing  it  about. 
Agob  Oglou  was  absolutely  set  against  her 
having  any  thing  to  do  with  him  at  first,  but 
finding  out  what  the  •  object  was  he  counte- 
nanced it,  and  many  visits  were  necessary  on 
this  score. 

"  But  you  were  so — so — there  was  so  much 
trouble  about  you  and  my  sister,  how  can  you 
be  in  love  with  me  ?  "  replied  the  fair  Olympia 
to  his  addresses,   "  I  do  not  understand  that." 

"  Oh,  those  things  get  exaggerated !  You 
must  not  pay  attention  to  all  you  hear.  Did  I 
not  bring  you  fig-paste  ?  Was  I  not  always 
looking  forward  to  your  growing  up?  You  are 
the  perfect  type  of  which  any  predecessor 
could  only  have  been  the  faint  indication." 

Now,  as  Olympia  was  not  more  averse  to 
being  complimented  than  other  of  the  fair  sex 
at  Constantinople,  and  he  was  almost  her  first 
serious  admirer,  and  her  father  made  no  inter- 
ference, it  is  quite  possible  that  had  she  fewer 
distractions  in  other  directions,  things  might 
have  taken  quite  a  serious  course.  But  she 
was  going  to  ambassadors'  balls  with  her  sister 
Urania  and  going  out  in  her  caique  at  Prinkipo 


NEAR    THE  ROSE.  199 

in  the  summer — there  were  ten  rowers,  in  suits 
of  white  Broussa  silk,  with  red  caps  and 
sashes — and  from  these  diversions  she  was  sud- 
denly rapt  away  by  a  gallant  colonel  of  some 
foreign  army,  and  there  was  the  end  of  that. 

Not  a  little  tremor  showed  itself  in  Lysicra- 
tes'  investments  in  the  stock  market  after  this 
event,  but  they  were  all  on  the  right  side,  and 
he  went  on  and  became  a  rich  man. 

Once  more  he  returned  to  Urania. 

"  I  am  madly  in  love  with  your  adorable  sis- 
ter, Thekla,  "  he  said,  "  will  you  not  help  me 
with  her?" 

Some  scorn  mingled  with  his  confidante's 
sympathy  this  time. 

"  Have  you  no  memory  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  have  only  a  heart,  and  it  is  crushed  by 
the  divine  Thekla.  Recall,  I  pray  you,  all  the 
good  you  know  of  me  in  the  past,  and  tell  it 
to  her  to  forward  my  cause." 

Urania  smiled  at  him,  but  with  no  great 
malice  as  yet. 

"  I  shall  not  be  averse  to  having  you  as  a 
brother-in-law ;  I  will  do  all  I  can  for  you, " 
she  said. 


200  NEAR    THE  ROSE. 

"You  do  not  love  me;  it  is  not  possible," 
the  sprightly  Thekla  replied  to  his  wooing, 

"  Did  I  not  bring  you  lemon-drops?  Was  I 
not  always  delighted  to  sit  by  your  side  even 
when  you  were  a  child?"  he  argued.  "  You  are 
the  perfect  type — " 

"  Oh  yes,  of  which  nobody  else  could  ever 
have  been  more  than  the  dim  indication,"  she 
cut  in  mockingly.  "  I  know,  you  told  that  to 
my  sister." 

Pandeli  Panjiri  not  only  consented  in  the 
present  instance,  but,  since  Lysicrates  had 
become  such  a  desirable  parti,  he  was  even 
delighted.  Now,  however,  by  a  curious  alter- 
nation of  roles,  it  was  the  daughter  that  was 
intractable  and  obdurate.  She  coqueted  with 
him  just  the  least  bit  in  the  world,  and  then 
danced  off  with  a  handsome  young  Russian  sec- 
retary of  legation,  and  there  was  the  end  of  that 
also.  Lysicrates  Avas  as  cruelly  gored  upon  this 
horn  of  the  dilemma  as  he  had  formerly  been 
upon  the  other. 

Urania  was  the  recipient  of  his  expressions 
of  disappointment  in  this  affair  as  in  that  of 
Olympia ;  and   many  more  visits  were  neces- 


NEAR    THE  ROSE.  20 1 

sary,  though  Agob  Oglou  by  no  means  looked 
upon  them  with  the  same  favoring  eye  when 
they  were  connected  with  defeat  as  with  hope- 
ful advance.  However,  Agob  Oglou  was 
suffering  of  late  from  over-zealous  devotion  to 
business,  and  his  doctors  did  not  permit  him 
to  give  all  the  attention  to  current  matters  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  doing. 

When  Lysicrates  proposed  to  the  next  sis- 
ter, Yessamina,  Urania  still  bore  with  him, 
though  distantly,  but  when  he  proposed  to 
Aspasia,  she  crossed  him  off  her  books  entfrely. 
It  had  then  become  ridiculous,  and  a  discour- 
tesy, almost  an  insult  to  her.  Yes,  as  the  suc- 
cessive daughters  of  Pandeli  Panjiri  arrived  at 
woman's  estate,  Lysicrates  laid  siege  to  all  of 
them  in  turn,  and  he  was  by  one  and  all 
rejected.  Aspasia  was  in  some  respects  the 
most  fascinating  of  the  younger  set,  but  all 
were  fashioned  upon  a  most  charming  pattern 
and  fortunate  was  she  who  belonged  to  it. 
Anais  was  black-eyed,  Yessamina  gray-eyed, 
Olympia  was  most  plump,  Rumania  the  most 
tall  and  slender,  Aspasia  the  most  rollicking, 
and    Calypso    the    most    sedate,    but    all    had 


202  NEAR    THE  ROSk. 

nearly  the  same  taking  ways,  the  same  com- 
plexion and  hair,  the  same  roundness  of  con- 
tour, the  same  half-mischievous  smile  hovering 
about  the  corners  of  their  amiable  mouths. 

Lysicrates  wooed  with  a  gallant  intrepidity  ; 
he  sent  sonatas  to  the  musical  one,  whole  par- 
terres of  symbolic  flowers  to  the  sentimental 
one,  and  illuminated  prayer-books  to  her  who 
had  a  religious  streak.  But  this  task  became 
increasingly  difificult.  The  sisters  naturally 
communicated  with  one  another,  and  he  was 
hard  put  to  it  for  new  expressions  of  tender- 
ness and  a  plausible  accounting  for  his  former 
infatuations.  Any  one  with  a  less  persistent 
nature  would  have  given  it  up  long  before. 
The  later  comers  upon  the  scene  laughed  at 
him  to  his  face,  as  the  earlier  ones  had  been 
forced  to  do  behind  his  back.  His  compli- 
ments of  a  past  generation  had  a  positive 
moldiness  in  their  venerable  antiquity.  Who 
could  have  believed  this  wrinkled,  faded, 
over-amorous  old  fellow  had  once  been,  as 
reported,  a  handsome,  dashing  young  man  ? 

These  young  women  were  so  fair  and  flow- 
er-like   that  it  was  not  possible  any  of  them 


NEAR    THE  ROSE.  203 

should  remain  long  on  the  parent  stem.  Some 
aspirant,  more  or  less  worthy,  plucked  off  one 
after  another.  Even  the  urchin  Pericles,  very 
much  grown-up,  had  a  wife  and  family  of  his 
own,  and  was  established  in  a  flourishing 
export  trade. 

At  last  Calypso — she  that  had  been,  baby 
Calypso  in  her  nurse's  arms — was  wed.  Then 
and  then  only  did  Lysicrates  Stauros  aban- 
don his  long  and  vain  pursuit,  a  quest 
which  was  in  some  respects  pathetic,  even 
while  amusing.  Great  recklessness  marked 
his  next  speculations  on  the  Stock  Exchange, 
and  he  lost  most  of  the  large  gains  he  had 
acquired.  Nor  did  he  stop  here ;  he  gave 
full  head  to  a  general  eccentricity  that 
had  more  and  more  gained  upon  him.  He 
abandoned  all  pretense  to  be  a  conventional 
member  of  society.  He  let  his  beard  grow 
down  to  his  waist,  till  he  resembled  a  dancing 
dervish,  and  even  got  so  low  that  the  boys 
followed  him  mockingly  in  the  street.  At 
length  he  took  a  hut  and  small  bit  of  land 
at  Pancaldi,  and  led  a  hermit  existence.  He 
alternated    this   with    wandering    among    the 


204  NEAR    THE   ROSE. 

cypress  groves  of  the  cemeteries  all  about  the 
city,  or  might  even  be  found  sitting  on  some 
turban-crested  Moslem  tomb  in  distant,  many- 
domed  Scutari. 

Meanwhile  Urania  had  crossed  him  off  her 
books  utterly,  and  perhaps  hardly  even  knew 
whether  he  was  alive  or  dead ;  for  her  it  seemed 
as  if  he  had  never  existed.  But  Agob  Oglou's 
maladies  went  on  increasing,  and  he  died,  leav- 
ing her  free.  There  is  no  telling  just  when 
Lysicrates,  in  his  lonely  way  of  life,  heard  this 
news.  He  went  no  more  prominently  into 
public  on  account  of  it,  but  from  that  time  he 
began  to  be  more  particular  in  his  dress,  and  to 
make  an  effort  to  recover  something  of  his 
former  dignity,  as  if  there  were  now  a  tribunal 
to  which  a  regard  for  appearances  was  due, 
even  though  he  cared  nothing  for  them  himself. 

Urania's  husband  might  have  been  dead  a 
year  and  a  half,  and  she  was  living  in  a  state  of 
philosophic  seclusion  when  Lysicrates  presented 
himself  at  her  house. 

"  This  is  of  no  avail,"  he  said. 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  she  stammered. 
She  could  not  but  feel  sorry  for  him.     She  had 


NEAR    THE  ROSE.  205 

hardly  known  him  at  first.  His  well-made 
black  coat  hung  very  loosely  about  his  attenu- 
ated form,  and  the  late  removal  of  a  bushy 
beard  that  had  so  long  hidden  his  face  from 
the  sun  gave  his  complexion  a  peculiar  pallor ; 
he  was  like  an  apparition. 

"  Who  is  going  to  pay  me  for  my  wasted 
life?"  he  demanded  quite  sternly.  "Of  you 
I  ask  it — you,  Mademoiselle  Urania  Panjiri." 

"  It  was  not  my  fault,"  she  returned,  still 
confused.  "  You  wrote  me  that  release, 
you—  " 

"  Ah  yes,  you  say  one  thing,  I  say  another. 
Well,  what  is  the  use  ?  Providence  wished  it 
so,"  he  interrupted.  "  But  why  does  he  not 
content  us  with  onr  lot  when  he  breaks  down 
our  most  dearly  cherished  hopes?  I  wanted 
nothing  bu  twhat  was  worthy  and  good." 

Urania  essayed  no  reply  to  a  line  of  reason- 
ing such  as  has  probably  been  indulged  in  at 
some  time  by  all  of  us. 

"  However,  I  have  a  plan,"  extending  his 
hand  with  a  certain  briskness,  *'  I  am  going 
away." 

"Where  will  you  go?" 


2o6  NEAR    THE  ROSE. 

"  To  America." 

"  You  wt//  not  go  to  those  desolate  wilds," 
expostulated  Urania,  starting  in  genuine  sym- 
pathy and  horror.  "  You  will  not  face  an 
inclement  climate,  ferocious  animals,  the  sav- 
age red  men  of  Fenimore  Cooper,  at  your  age? 
How  can  there  be  any  need  of  any  thing  so 
dreadful?" 

"  What  difference  can  it  make  ?  "  he  replied, 
as  with  a  sneer  for  his  own  luckless  fate.  "  I 
shall  not  lack  money  ;  my  savings  have  notably 
accamulated  during  my  hermit  life.  It  is  very 
far  away,  that  is  the  main  consideration,  and 
there  at  last  perhaps  I  shall  forget.  I  will  live 
with  my  illusions,  the  children  of  my  heart,  in 
a  realm  of  shadows.  I  wanted  but  one  thing 
in  this  world,  one  face,  one  form,  and,  failing 
that,  nothing  could  satisfy  me.  All  the  years 
of  my  life  I  have  tried,  and  it  is  now  too  late  to 
hope  to  succeed." 

"Why  do  you  say  that?  Did  you  not  court 
Olympia,  Yessamina,  Thekla,  Calypso — every 
one  of  my  sisters  as  well  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  singular  gaze, 
mournful  but  penetrated  with  the  old  fire. 


NEAR    THE   ROSE.  207 

"  I  cast  them  out  of  my  heart  " — he  dashed 
his  hand  away  from  his  breast,  as  if  actually 
doing  so — "  they  never  had  any  real  hold  there. 
But  you  always  remained  ;  you  know  it  very 
well,  Urania  Panjiri.  I  saw  only  you  in  them 
— as  I  can  now  see  them  faintly  in  you.  At  a 
certain  age  there  was  always  one  who  ap- 
proached you  so  nearly  that  I  could  imagine 
I  saw  your  reflection  in  a  dim  mirror.  But  not 
one  of  them  allever  equaled  you  nor  ever  can ; 
you  are  peerless  ;  you  are  still  the  most  queenly, 
the  loveliest  of  them  all." 

This  was  not  quite  true,  for  age  had  begun 
to  tell  upon  Urania,  but  so  flattering  a  view, 
even  if  misguided,  was  none  the  less  pleasant 
to  hear. 

"  Why  do  you  think  I  have  haunted  you  all 
these  long  years?  Why  did  they  please  my 
fancy?"  the  lover  went  on.  "You  know  the 
old  saying,  '  If  one  can  not  have  the  rose,  it 
is  pleasant  to  be  near  it.'     That  is  the  reason." 

Urania  remained  silent,  but  continued  to 
look  at  him  with  a  very  relenting  air.  A  little 
while  after  this  she  said  : 

"  Do  not  go  to  America  !     I   will  tell  you 


208  NEAR    THE  ROSE. 

something,  though  my  sisters,  when  they  hear 
it,  may  think  it  strange.  I  did  my  duty  well 
by  Agob  Oglou.  Since  you  still  find  me 
beautiful,  I  still  think  you  young  and  brave. 
We  have  even  yet  all  the  world  before  us." 


BETWIXT  AND  BETWEEN. 


WHEN  Lieutenant  Sturgeon,  of  the  Elev- 
enth cavalry,  had  settled  down — after  a 
brief  acquaintance — into  a  warm  admirer  of 
Miss  Edith  Elbridge  and  intended  to  ask  her 
hand  in  marriage,  he  became  aware  that  Mr. 
J.  Applegate  Crump  was  a  very  interfering 
sort  of  person. 

Applegate  Crump,  on  the  other  hand,  tired 
of  his  fashionable  bachelorhood  and  determined 
to  marry  a  debutante  of  the  last  season,  who 
was  the  most  beautiful,  wealthy,  and  highly 
connected  of  them  all,  found  a  stalwart  lieu- 
tenant, from  Fort  Schuyler — very  square  in 
the  shoulders,  and  effusively  over-gallant,  after 
the  manner  of  some  army  men— obtruding  very 
much  into  his  plans  and  opportunities. 

Lieutenant  Sturgeon  had  met  her  first  at 
one  of  the  lawn-parties  near  Pelham  to  which 


2IO  BETWIXT  AND  BETWEEN. 

some  of  the  officers  often  came  over — possibly 
at  that  pleasant  spot  for  out-of-door  diversions, 
the  Country  Club.  As  to  Applegate  Crump, 
he  had  always  known  her,  as'  he  always  knew 
everybody  of  social  distinction. 

Applegate  Crump  was  small  and  dapper,  a 
broker  in  Wall  Street,  and  his  name  was  one  of 
those  said  to  be  kept  in  newspaper  offices  in 
lists  scissored  off  in  suitable  lengths  as  occa- 
sion requires.  There  could  be  no  mistake  in 
this,  for  if  he  was  not  at  the  particular  place 
mentioned  he  ought  to  have  beien,  and  so  it 
was  all  right.  And  now  he  had  decided  to 
become  a  family  man,  and  have  a  rich  and 
beautiful  wife.  He  had  been  discreet  about  it, 
disguised  it  from  the  public,  and  only  let  it  out 
by  little  and  little,  as  it  were,  even  to  himself. 

Lieutenant  Sturgeon  had  resolved  to  make 
his  proposal  this  very  night.  When  I  say 
"  this  very  night,"  in  such  a  way — for  the  dash- 
ing lieutenant  communicates  something  of  his 
own  impetuosity  to  the  writer — I  mean  the  last 
cotillon  of  the  "  Small  and  Early  "  at  Delmon- 
ico  s.  It  was  after  Lent,  and  probably,  too,  the 
final  ball  of  the  season.     New  York  would  soon 


Betwixt  and  between:  211 

seek  new  methods  of  amusing  itself.  The  S- 
and  E.  was  really  both  numerous  and  late — vciy 
fashionable,  as  a  matter  of  course.  Among  the 
guests  were  Lord  Stuff,  Sir  Peddlington  Stare, 
the  Marquis  de  Babille,  and  all  the  other  trav- 
eling foreigners  of  note  who  were  in  town  at 
the  time.  The  rooms  were  handsomely  set  ofT 
with  tapestries,  statuary,  banks  and  festoons  of 
flowers,  and  wax  tapers  in  the  chandeliers. 

By  an  odd  coincidence,  Applegate  Crump 
had  resolved  to  propose  to  Miss  Elbridge  that 
evening  also.  And  yet,  there  is  nothing  so 
strange  about  the  coincidence,  for  she  was  an 
attractive  girl  to  whom  it  is  supposable  a  great 
many  men  might  want  to  propose  on  the  same 
evening. 

On  this  occasion  she  was  fair  and  radiant 
beyond  words.  When  she  stood  against  the 
fine  tapestry  draping  the  music  gallery  of  the 
Hungarian  band — Lander's  occupied  the  other 
— she  seemed  like  one  of  its  own  ideal  figures, 
in  the  enchanted  wood,  only  far  lovelier.  It  was 
usual  to  say  of  her  that  she  "  looked  like  some- 
body in  particular,"  which  meant  that  she  had 
distinction.     She  was  easy,    natural,    not    for- 


212  BETWlXr  AND  BETWEEN. 

ward,  but  with  the  manner  of  one  who  had 
never  been  forced  to  bow  to  superiors.  Her 
married  sister — almost  equally  fair — under 
whose  protection  she  was,  had  made  the  great 
match  with  Van  Red  Hook  Corlaer,  just  before. 
The  beautiful  heads  of  the  two,  seen  together 
in  profile,  had  an  exquisite,  cameo-like  effect. 
The  white  neck  of  the  elder  sister  inclined  un- 
duly to  plumpness.  That  of  the  younger, 
amid  its  dainty  laces,  in  the  license  accorded 
by  fashion,  was  of  a  girlish  purity  to  inspire 
poets  and  sculptors. 

The  two  intending  suitors  had  many  inter- 
ruptions, conflicted  with  each  other,  and  with 
others  in  turn,  and  it  was  late  before  their 
desired  opportunities  came.  A  sensible  young 
friend  of  Edith  Elbridge  wondered  to  her  how 
she  could  waste  so  much  time  on  this  pair. 
But  she  was  independent,  had  her  whims,  took 
neither  of  them  seriously,  and  they  had  amused 
her — though  the  indications  decidedly  were 
that  this  whim  was  waning. 

The  lieutenant  brought  his  shoulders  pre- 
pared for  conquest.  It  was  Edith  who  said 
of    these    shoulders,    that     he     carried     them 


BETWIXT  AND  BETWEEN.  213 

around  as  if  they  belonged  to  somebody 
else. 

**  I  am  a  man  who  goes  straight  to  the 
point,  Miss  Elbridge,"  he  began.  "  We  rough 
soldiers  are  like  that.  When  there's  a  bat- 
tery to  be  charged,  we — " 

"  Oh,  do  tell  me  about  charging  a  battery; 
what  is  it  like  ?  "  she  interrupted.  Whether 
she  suspected  his  drift  or  not,  she  persisted 
in  leading  the  conversation  into  other 
channels. 

"  It's  nothing  at  all  to  facing  your  bright 
eyes.  You're  a  regular  dead  shot,  ^ou  know. 
A  glance,  a  smile,  and  over  a  man  goes,  riddled 
through  the  heart." 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  often  think  your 
heart  is  like,  Lieutenant  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't,  really." 

"  Made  in  compartments,  like  the  ocean 
steamers.  If  a  few  of  them  are  broken,  the 
rest  of  them  are  all  right,  and  the  ship  goes  on 
as  well  as  ever." 

"  Oh,  I  assure  you — you  are  the  only  one — 
you — "  he  protested,  mopping  his  brow. 

He  began  to  have  the  air  of  charging  a  bat- 


214  BETWIXT  AND  BETWEEN. 

tfery  himself,  or,  rather,  one  of  those  squares  of 
light  infantry  that  resist  assault  on  every  side. 
He  squared  his  martial  shoulders  to  the  front, 
to  the  right,  to  the  left,  as  seeking  new  points 
of  attack. 

"  Do  you  know  I  have  never  heard  a  battle 
described  to  me.  I  want  to  hear  all  the  par- 
ticulars," she  went  on. 

"  Well,  we — er — don't  have  them  much  now 
— not  in  the  army." 

"  But  you  have  plenty  of  other  hardships,  of 
course?  " 

"  Why*no,  I  have  influence  at  headquarters, 
and  generally  get  stationed  at  civilized  places. 
I  like  to  be  about  town  a  good  deal,  you  know. 
— That's  one  reason  why  I've  been  thinking  it 
would  be  easier  for  us  in  case  you — " 

"No  active  service?  No  real  hardship?" 
arching  her  brows  in  surprise. 

"  Oh,  as  to  hardships,  there's  the  Mount 
Vernon  Barracks,  down  on  the  Alabama  River: 
I  put  up  with  a  few  months  of  that  once. 
There's  a  station.  Talk  about  war!  It's  in 
the  heart  of  the  pine  woods,  three  miles  from  a 
boat  landing — twelve  miles  from  anywhere.' 


BETWIXT  AND   BETWEEN.  215 

"  What  is  called  a  fine  strategic  position,  J 
suppose." 

"  I  don't  seem  to — er — er — " 

"An  enemy  couldn't  get  your  address,  you 
know.     You  would  be  perfectly  safe  there." 

With  this  she  cut  her  way  through  the  cav- 
alry for  the  time  being,  and  made  her  escape. 
The  doughty  lieutenant,  dissatisfied  with  his 
opening  movement,  carried  his  shoulders  across 
the  room,  and  withdrew  to  the  Caf6,  below, 
to  seek  some  stronger  inspiration  than  was  to 
be  had  above  for  a  renewed  and  more  strenu- 
ous attack. 

Next  advanced  J.  Applegate  Crump,  with 
his  proposal  cut  and  dried.  But  lead  up  to  his 
subject  as  he  would,  all  his  diplomatic  ap- 
proaches— beginning  with  the  Easter  weddings 
and  the  like — were  of  no  avail.  He  too 
was  repulsed,  but  returned  before  the  more 
slowly  moving  lieutenant,  and  secured  a  new 
opportunity. 

"  For  some  dreary  time  past,"  he  now  began, 
*'  all  my  pleasures  and  pursuits  pall  upon  me  ; 
my  appetite  fails :  my  sleep  is  broken.  One 
engrossing  thought  occupies  my  mind — " 


2i6  3ETWIXT  AND  BETWEEN. 

"  It  is  '  spring  fever,'  I  know.  But  summer 
is  approaching.  Perhaps  the  coaching-parade 
will  cure  you." 

"  No,  a  hundred  coaching-parades  could  not 
cure  me. — By  the  way,  you'll  be  going  out 
with  us  as  usual  ?" 

"  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort.  I  consider 
it  v^ery  bad  style.  The  same  women  who  get 
upon  the  drags  to  be  stared  at  by  all  New 
York,  pretend  to  be  indignant  if  a  reporter 
describes  their  dresses  at  a  party.  It's  too 
much  like  a  circus  for  me" 

"  But  you  went  last  year — you  never  found 
any  fault  before,  you  know,"  gasped  Mr.  J. 
Applegate  Crump. 

"  jDo?i'(  quote  to  me  what  I  did  last  year, 
or  last  month,  or  last  week,  for  that  matter.  I 
am  not  to  be  governed  by  my  last  year's.  I 
should  think  you  would  know  it  by  this  time. 
Nothing  is  more  tiresome — As  if  there  were 
nothing  new  in  the  world." 

A  strange  young  man,  but  rarely  seen  in  this 
circle,  had  been,  for  some  time,  following  her 
about  with  his  eyes,  and  his  presence  possibly 
had  a  disturbing  effect  on  her  conversation. 


BETWIXT  AND  BETWEEN.  217 

"  But  you'll  go  up  to  the  Country  Club  with 
us,  on  Decoration  Day.  A  large  party.  All 
the  young  society  beauties  are  to  be  there.'' 

"  I  have  not  the  least  claim  on  that  score. — 
No,  I  shall  stay  in  town  to  see  the  procession. 
The  military  are  splendid.  I  love  brass  but- 
tons, bayonets  flashing,  and  banners  waving." 

•'  But  society  doesn't  stay  in  town.  It  isn't 
a-a-expected,  you  know.  And  if  we  pillars  of 
society  don't  stand  by  each  other  " — expostu- 
lated Mr.  Crump  in  alarm.  He  began  to  fear 
that  her  ideas  were  almost  too  heterodox  to 
base  any  substantial  future  upon. 

"  I  often  think  I  never  want  to  hear  the 
word  society  again." 

"  You  say  such  jolly  severe  things,  ha,  ha  !  " 
laughed  the£>ther.  "  Well,  I  don't  mind  that, 
because  I  do  the  same  thing  myself." 

His  severities  were  about  as  formidable  as 
*'  Good  morning,"  or  "  It's  a  fine  day." 

The  strange  young  man  above-mentioned 
now  stood  directly  opposite,  by  a  doorway, 
gazing  across  with  an  air  of  keen  wistfulness 
mingled  with  moody  reproach.  The  Lieuten- 
ant came  back,  exuberantly  ready  for  victory. 


2l8  BETWIXT  AND  BETWEEN. 

Miss  Elbridge  despatched  him  and  Applegate 
Crump  on  specious  messages.  She  made  them 
search  for  her  gloves  and  her  fan,  and  then 
bring  glasses  of  water  in  turn  like  buckets  from 
a  well.  The  young  man  at  the  doorway  at  last 
began  to  realize  that  room  was  being  made 
beside  her,  for  himself. 

"  You  do  not  approve  of  me,  Mr.  Knowlton," 
she  said  to  him  as  he  joined  her. 

"  I  can't  deny  it,  though  I  had  not  expected 
to  say  it  to  you  in  person." 

"  And  may  one  ask  why  you  condescend  to 
honor  our  poor  ball?  Your  disdain  of  all  such 
matters  is  well  known." 

"To  tell  the  truth,  I  couldn't  sleep.  The 
booming  of  the  carriages  about  Delmonico's 
and  all  the  noises  of  the  night  often  disturb  me 
■ — over  here  at  my  lodging  close  by — but  to- 
night they  seemed  worse  than  usual.  All  at 
once  I  remembered  that  you  were  at  this  ball, 
and  I  gave  myself  up  to  the  luxury  of  thinking 
of  you.  Then,  sleep  was  indeed  impossible  ;  I 
grew  more  and  more  wakeful,  and  finally  got  up 
and  dressed  and  came  over  to  the  Caf6,  below, 
to  continue  my  reflections  more  comfortably." 


BETWIXT  AND  between:  219 

"  Not  a  very  practical  proceeding  for  a 
young  man  who  has  to  get  up  so  early  in  the 
the  morning  as  you  tell  me  you  have,  to  make 
his  way  in  the  world. — But  how  do  you  happen 
to  be  here  ?  " 

"  I  happened  to  have  an  invitation  sent  me, 
by  a  patron  who  thought  I  would  be  apprecia- 
tive. He  no  doubt  meant  to  eke  out  with  it 
the  smallness  of  his  fee. — I  had  not  really 
thought  of  using  it,  till  I  heard  some  men  in 
the  Caf^  discussing  you." 

"What  men  could  they  have  been?" 

He  indicated  with  his  eyes  the  two  just  now 
again  approaching.  "  It  was  the  military  one 
that  principally  bragged  about  you  and  toasted 
you,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  the  Lieutenant.  Did  you  ever  see  more 
delightfully  broad  shoulders  ?  " 

"  No,  nor  heard  half  a  dozen  much  broader 
stories  than  he  told.  I  would  not  have  be- 
lieved they  could  even  know  you,  and  now  t 
come  here  and  find  them  and  their  like  appar- 
ently in  more  favor  than  anybody  else.  How 
can  you  have  any  possible  patience  with  such 
people?    What  have  you  been  saying  to  them, 


220  BETWIXT  AND  BETWEEN. 

for  instance,  all  this  time  that  I  have  been 
looking  on?  " 

"  I  was  inculcating  upon  them  your  favorite 
morality,  railing  at  society,  scoffing  at  Anglo- 
mania and  the  coaching  parade, — I  assure  you 
I  was.  I  told  them  we  were  flies  in  amber,  not 
half  worthy  of  our  costly  environment.  Oh,  I 
am  a  great  apostle  of  your  doctrines  when  you 
are  not  by.     You  should  have  heard  me." 

"  How  sorry  I  am  I  came  !"  he  responded 
mournfully,  as  if  her  graceless  levity  made  the 
case  quite  hopeless.  "  I  have  always  put  you 
on  such  a  lofty  pedestal,  you  have  been  to  me 
something  sacred  and  holy.  I  wanted  to  come 
and  have  a  glimpse  of  you  in  your  own  manner 
of  life,  to  which  all  my  own  is  so  much  unlike. 
I  felt  that  you  always  chose  in  it  the  worthiest 
part,  that  most  in  keeping  with  yourself,  and 
that  no  doubt  much  was  forced  upon  you  only 
by  the  necessities  of  your  position.  And  now 
— ah,  these  men !  these  imbeciles!"  And  he 
broke  off  abruptly  and  ground  his  teeth. 

"  They  do  not  scold  me  ;  they  do  not  say  un- 
complimentary things,"  affecting  to  pout  in  a 
childish  way. 


BETWIXT  AND  BETWEEN.  221 

"  What  do  they  say — if  it  be  worth  while 
asking?  "  he  demanded  grimly. 

"  They  tell  me  a  battery  is  less  formidable 
than  my  bright  eyes,  that  my  mouth  is  too  small 
to  pronounce  three-syllable  words,  that  I — " 

An  open  snort  of  disdain  interrupted  this 
trying  response,  and  he  was  preparing  to  take 
his  leave. 

"  Are  you  never  coming  to  see  me  any  more, 
at  five  o'clock  tea  ?  "  demanded  the  pretty  girl 
with  a  half-repentant  air  ;  "  I  really  miss  you." 

Foster  Knowlton  yielded,  upon  this,  to  a 
new  revulsion  of  feeling.  Here  he  had  come 
thundering,  like  another  John  Knox,  to 
destroy  the  idols  of  the  winsome  frivolous 
queen,  and  she  showed  no  resentment  but  even 
submitted  with  a  sort  of  meekness. 

"  Oh,  pardon  this  wild,  utterly  unwarrantable 
talk!"  he  exclaimed.  "/  indeed  to  find 
fault  with,  to  say  uncomplimentary  things  to 
you — whom  I  revere,  before  whom  I  hold  my 
very  breath  with  admiration.  You  are  so 
beautiful  you  must  be  good,  no  matter  what 
you  may  seem  to  say,  no  matter  what  you  may 
seem  to  do." 


22  2  BETWIXT  AND  BETWEEN. 

"  Ah !  you  are  the  worst  flatterer  of  all," 
she  returned  with  a  seraphic  smile. 

Foster  Knowlton  was  a  young  landscape- 
gardener,  of  the  scientific  sort.  He  had  come 
to  her  father's  place  at  Pelham  to  supervise 
some  improvements  for  an  important  firm  of 
which  he  was  an  employ^.  It  happened  during 
one  of  his  visits  that  Miss  Edith  Elbridge — 
thanks  to  a  Frerfch  heel  and  a  polished  oaken 
floor — had  met  with  a  Potts'  fracture  of  the 
ankle.  There  was  nobody  in  the  house  at  the 
time  but  women-folk,  and  he  was  forced  to 
carry  her  up-stairs  to  her  room.  He  said  to 
himself  that  this  close  contact  with  her  dainty 
form  would  do  him  no  good.  He  did  not 
appreciate  it  so  much  in  the  agitation  and  sym- 
pathy of  the  moment,  but  it  made  his  heart 
beat  so  continuously  with  thinking  of  it  after- 
wards, he  feared  a  chronic  affection  of  that 
organ. 

The  acquaintance  thus  begun  went  on  to 
warm  intimacy.  It  was  confined  in  a  peculiar 
way  to  themselves,  for  Knowlton  had  little  part 
in  her  circle.  He  boldly  said  amusing  and 
disparasfing   things   of   it.     She,   on   her  side, 


BETWIXT  AND  BETWEEN.  223 

argued  with  him  that  he  must  cultivate  the 
world  more,  for  his  own  interest.  The  young 
landscape-gardener  became  a  half  Mentor  to 
her,  an  uncommon  sort  of  friend,  quite  outside 
the  usual  routine.  He  fell  extremely  in  love 
with  her,  and  then,  feeling  that  he  had  so  little 
to  give  and  so  much  to  gain  in  such  a  match, 
had  heroically  kept  away  and  seldom  saw  her. 

The  visit  of  this  third  person,  to  whom  they 
would  never  have  thought  of  giving  serious 
attention,  had  consequences  the  other  two 
aspirants  could  little  have  foreseen.  He  re- 
vived in  Miss  Elbridge  an  impatience — 
often  indulged  in — with  the  nonentities  and 
incompetents  of  her  prosperous  set,  who  had 
everything  in  the  world  in  their  favor  and 
so  little  to  show  for  it.  She  could  have  morally 
taken  them  by  the  throat,  like  a  female  Jack 
Sheppard,  and  made  them  disgorge  their  unused 
possessions  for  the  benefit  of  their  betters. 

She  became  particularly  short  with  the 
military  man  and  the  society  beau.  They 
bored  her  greatly,  and  in  her  anxiety  to  get  rid 
of  them  led  each  of  them  into  a  most  astonish- 
ing mistake. 


224  BETWIXT  AND  BETWEEN. 

Applegate  Crump  had  made  some  dis- 
paraging remarks  on  the  military,  particularly 
at  the  expense  of  the  Lieutenant,  who — by 
reason  partly  of  his  great  responsibility  to 
his  shoulders — was  certainly  not  a  dancer  of 
merit. 

"I  dote  upon  the  army,  Mr.  Crump,"  re- 
sponded the  lady  wilfully.  "  You  are  wrong  in 
aspersing  a  body  which,  being  our  country's 
shield,  has  too  little  time,  perhaps,  for  all  the 
petty  accomplishments  of  civil  life." 

"You  refer  to  the  a — a — the  profession,  not 
to  any  individual,  I  trust?" 

"  The  profession,  decidedly.  I  refer  to  hero- 
ism, great  sieges,  battle,  murder,  and  sudden 
death.  You  are  such  a  languid,  conventional 
sort  of  person,  Mr.  Crump." 

"I  languid  ?  I — oh,  I  assure  you  you  should 
see  me  at  the  Stock  Exchange.  I  may  be 
calm  on  the  surface,  but  underneath  I'm  a  per- 
fect volcano.     I  am,  really." 

"  And  all  for  a  little  more  money  to  spen  /; 
in  the  idlest  ways.  When  people  have  got 
money  enough,  why  do  they  not  turn  to  higher 
things  ?  " 


BETWIXT  AND   BETWEEN.  225 

"  Oh,  I — a — assure  you  I  don't  get  so  very 
much,"  explained  the  broker,  half  paralyzed 
by  this  unexpected  turn. 

He  went  away  full  of  a  new,  agitating  idea. 
It  suddenly  popped  into  his  head  that  if  he 
were  only  in  another  profession  he  should  suc- 
ceed with  her  easily.  Why  did  she  tolerate 
that  clumsy  Lieutenant  Sturgeon  ?  Clearly  only 
because  he  was  in  the  army.  She  had  as  good 
as  declared  she  would  never  marry  but  in  the 
army. 

"Well,  why  not?"  said  Crump.  "My 
uncle,  on  the  maternal  side,  is  Secretary  of 
War,  and  the  thing  is  feasible  enough.  And 
Wall  Street  has  been  so  dull  ever  since  Gar- 
field's death,  the  grass  is  nearly  growing  there  ; 
one  is  better  out  of  than  in  it." 

Sturgeon,  on  the  other  hand,  might  be  de- 
scribed as  a  volcano  on  the  surface  and  calm 
beneath.  A  habit  of  falling  in  love  with  every 
pretty  face  had  left  him  emotions  of  but  little 
depth  and  slight  possibilities  of  pain.  Never- 
theless they  were  energetic  while  they  lasted, 
and  he  was  highly  in  earnest  at  present. 

It  was  the  caprice  of  Miss    Elbridge   with 


226  BETWIXT  AND   BETWEEN. 

him  to  look  very  differently  at  the  army.  She 
celebrated  the  victories  of  peace.  '•  It  is  the 
age  of  commerce  and  the  arts,"  she  said.  "  I 
can't  get  over  the  silliness  and  wickedness  of 
great  strong  men  cutting  one  another's  throats 
at  this  time  of  day." 

"  Maybe  you'd  like  me  better  if  I  were  in 
some  other  kind  of  profession  ?" 

"  I  know  what  I  don't  like,  at  any  rate,"  she 
replied,  in  a  non-committal  way. 

"  Something  in  stocks  and  the  dancing- 
school  line?"  suggested  the  warrior  vindic- 
tively, catching  sight  of  Crump.  "  And  you 
wouldn't  be  a  soldier's  bride  ?  " 

"  Oh  dear  no,  not  a  soldier  s  bride,  no,  in- 
deed." 

There  certainly  seemed  to  Sturgeon  an  entic- 
ing stress  on  the  word  "  soldier's,"  and  a  start- 
ling thought  sprang  up  in  his  brain. 

"  There's  an  Indian  war  coming  on  in  which 
all  my  family  influence  may  not  be  able  to  save 
me  from  having  to  take  part,"  said  he.  "  And 
there's  the  danger  of  Mount  Vernon  Barracks 
again.  And  there's  always  the  dull  routine. 
Suppose  I  beat  my  sword  into  a  ploughshare, 


BETWIXT  AND  BETWEEN.  227 

my  spear  into  a  pruning-hook,  and  take  to  civil 
life?" 

He  went  away  ruminating  profoundly. 

Sturgeon  and  Crump  met  at  the  same  club, 
scowled  at  each  other,  looked  at  each  other 
with  glances  of  veiled  meaning,  each  wrote  a 
multitude  of  letters,  and  not  long  before 
Decoration  Day  both  were  summoned  by  busi- 
ness, at  a  slight  interval  apart,  to  Washington. 
****** 

The  formal  parade  of  Decoration  Day  was 
over.  Fifth  Avenue  and  Broadway  were  free 
again  of  the  swaying  bayonets,  the  heavy  guns, 
the  trim  Seventh,  the  fighting  Sixty-ninth,  the 
veterans  with  their  tattered  banners,  and  the 
wagon-loads  of  flowers  following  behind  for 
the  decoration  of  the  graves  in  the  cemeteries. 
Edith  Elbridge  and  Foster  Knowlton  sat  in 
the  parlor  of  a  Norman  Shaw  mansion  on  the 
Avenue,  its  rich  interior,  in  the  latest  modern 
taste,  forming  a  background  for  two  very 
comely  figures. 

The  girl  had  a  certain  gratified  sort  of  look 
and  rosy  color :  something  momentous  had 
evidently  just  passed.     The  young  man   was 


228  BETWIXT  AND  BETWEEN. 

utilizing  his  holiday  to  photograph  some  of  the 
house,  it  appeared,  and  had  stayed  to  lunch. 

A  card  was  now  brought  in,  bearing  the  in- 
scription, "  Mr.  Sturgeon  !  " 

"  Mr.  Sturgeon  ?  Mr.  Sturgeon  ?  I  know  of 
no  Mr.  Sturgeon,"  commented  Miss  Edith. 

Her  companion  sought  the  library  across  the 
hall,  to  gather  up  his  photographic  traps  and 
leave  her  free. 

It  was  Lieutenant  Sturgeon  that  followed  the 
servant.  He  was  dressed  in  a  way  intended 
to  denote  extreme  devotion  to  civil  life.  He 
wore  snuff-colored  clothes  ;  had  abandoned  the 
square  carriage  of  his  shoulders,  and  affected  a 
sort  of  book-keeper  stoop  or  the  air  of  a  mer- 
chant in  feeble  health. 

"  I  have  prepared  a  little  surprise  for  you," 
said  he.  "  I  have  beaten  my  sword  into  a 
ploughshare,  my  spear  into  a  pruning-hook. 
Will  you  accept  the  heart  and  hand  of  Peter 
Sturgeon,  member  of  the  Stock  Exchange  ?  " 

"Lieutenant  Sturgeon!''   exclaimed  Edith. 

"  Pardon  ! — Mr.  Sturgeon — of  the  Stock 
Exchange.  Office,  No.  ii  Wall  Street — all 
orders  promptly  attended  to." 


BETWIXT  AND  BETWEEN.  229 

"  I  don't  know  what  this  means,  and  I'm  so 
disappointed,  Lieutenant,  not  to  see  you  in 
uniform.  I  thought  all  army  men  made  it  a 
point  to  honor  the  day." 

"  Aha,  ahem  !  "  carelessly.  "  Of  course,  when 
I  was  in  the  army  I  wore  my  uniform, — but 
now  it's  a  very  different  matter." 

"  And  pray,  how  long  since  you  left  the 
army  ?  "  in  strong  surprise. 

"  A  week  ago  I  resigned  from  the  Eleventh 
Cavalry.  Yesterday  I  secured  my  seat  in  the 
Stock  Board.  Fortunately  there  was  one  for 
sale  just  at  the  very  moment  I  wanted  it." 

The  servant  brought  in  a  new  card. 

"  I  have  done  this  for  your  sake.  I  must  have 
a  few  moments*  private  talk  with  you,"  said 
Sturgeon,  hurriedly — "  I  cannot  see  any  other 
visitors  in  this  agitated  state,"  and  he  slipped 
through  i\\Q  portiere  into  the  back  parlor. 

A  well-known  figure  again  appeared.  It 
was  Crump, — in  military  costume,  resplendent 
in  brass  buttons,  a  sword  by  his  side,  his  shoul- 
ders rigidly  squared,  his  chest  well-thrown  out. 
He  moved  only  from  the  hips  downward,  salu- 
ted, and  struck  the  position  of  "  stand  at  ease." 


230  BETWIXT  AND   BETWEEN. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Crump,"  said  Edith,  genially. 
"You  at  least  are  doing  honor  to  the  day. 
But  this  surprise.  And  you  were  to  be  out  of 
town. — I  did  not  know  before  you  were  con- 
nected with  a  militia  regiment." 

"  Beg  pardon  !  it  is  no  militia ;  far  from  it. 
May  I  refer  you  to  my — " 

He  extended,  stififly,  his  visiting  card,  since 
she  had  not  grasped  the  detail  of  the  first ;  she 
read  :  "  Lieutenant  J.  Applegate  Crump,  Elev- 
enth Cavalry." 

"  What  is  this  masquerade  ?  " 

"  Masquerade  ?  not  at  all.  It's  the  card 
proper  to  the  army;    all  military  men  have  it." 

"  And  pray  how  long  have  you  been  in  the 
army  ?  "  she  inquired,  bewilderment  mingling 
with  her  surprise  and  amusement. 

"  My  commission  arrived  only  late  last  night, 
I  am  sorry  to  say,  or  I  should  have  appeared 
before  you  earlier.  Still,  this  was  the  first  day 
on  which  I  could  have  come  in  my  uniform. 
How  do  you  like  it,  by  the  way?" 

He  turned  about,  lifting  both  arms. 

"  You  are  too  splendid  ;  one  really  ought  to 
look  at  you  through  smoked  glass." 


BETWIXT  AND  BETWEEN.  231 

"  My  uncle,  on  the  maternal  side,  who  is 
secretary  of  war,  made  it  all  right  for  me. 
Fortunately  there  was  a  commission  vacant  in 
the  Eleventh  Cavalry  just  at  the  right  moment. 
Now  that  all  objections  are  removed — " 

"  This  is  a  gross  imitation  of  me,  sir! "  cried 
the  ex-lieutenant  Sturgeon,  bursting  into  the 
room.  "This  is  a  deliberate  parody.  I  call 
you  to  account  for  it." 

"  Parody,  sir  ?  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?  " 
demanded  Crump,  fuming  equally. 

"  I  changed  my  profession  in  life,  at  the 
request  of  this  lady — whose  wish  is  my  only 
law.  I  have  enlisted  for  the  victories  of  peace, 
put  myself  in  unison — as  every  sensible  person 
should — with  the  age  of  progress,  of  commerce 
and  the  arts.     And  now  you  presume  to — " 

"  I  call  it  rather  a  paltry  imitation  of  mey 
cut  in  the  other.  "  At  the  desire  of  this  young 
lady,  I  have  turned  to  heroism,  great  ideas, 
battle,  murder  and  sudden  death,  and  I  shall 
allow  no  reflections  upon  my  conduct  by  ^t?«, 
Lieutenant  Sturgeon." 

"  Don't  '  lieutenant'  me,  Mr.  Crump!  Peter 
Sturgeon,  Civilian,  of  the  Stock  Exchange  and 


232  BETWIXT  AND  BE'TWEEN. 

No.  1 1  Wall  Street.  You  will  do  well  not  to 
let  the  fact  escape  your  attention." 

"And  don't  '  Mr.'  me,  Peter  Sturgeon,  Civ- 
ilian. Recollect,  unequivocally,  that  /  am 
Lieutenant  Crump,  of  the  Eleventh  Cavalry  !  " 

"  Heavens,  the  very  commission  I  resigned ! 
Who  could  have  imagined  you  would 
get  it.?" 

"And  I  now  recall  it  was  a  Sturgeon  to 
whom  my  seat  in  the  Stock  Board  was  sold. 
Who  would  have  dreamed  that  you  could  have 
bought  it  ?  " 

"  I  can  only  call  this  a  most  extraordinary 
coincidence,  sir,"  cried  Sturgeon,  blustering 
hotly. 

"  I  catch  your  meaning,  sir.  It  is  a  coinci- 
dence; I  do  not  deny  it,"  cried  Crump,  bluster- 
ing in  return  as  much  as  he  dared  to  one  of 
such  superior  size  and  strength. 

"  Gentlemen,  do  not  quarrel,  I  beg  of  you  : 
it  is  not  worth  while  ;  it  is  not  really,"  appealed 
Edith,  some  alarm  mingling  with  her  mirth  at 
their  eccentric  conduct.  "  Mr.  Knowles,  will 
you  come  here  a  moment  ? " 

Knowles   entered.     She   flew   to   this   new- 


BETWIXr  AND  BETWEEN.  233 

comer  with  an  air  of  joyous  relief,  led  him  for- 
ward by  the  hand,  and  said  : 

"  Gentlemen,  allow  me  to  present  to  you  my 
future  husband." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say — "  gasped  Sturgeon, 
in  the  first  instant  of  wild  consternation. 

"  Do  I  understand  you  to  mean — "  gasped 
J.  Applegate  Crump,  equally  agitated. 

"  Will  you  go  back  on  a  man  who  beat  his 
sword  into  a  ploughshare  ?  who  gave  up  the 
gallant,  dashing  Eleventh  Cavalry  to  become  a 
member  of  a  one-horse  Stock  Exchange?" 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  go  back  on  one 
who  for  your  sake  has  become  his  country's 
shield,  dismissed  the  abject  pursuit  of  money- 
getting  and  all  the  petty  accomplishments  of 
civil  life?" 

Foster  Knowles  took  a  pace  or  two  forward. 
He  did  not  speak,  but  a  good  deal  seemed 
gathering  in  his  eye. 

The  two  disappointed  suitors  looked  at  each 
other  aghast. 

"  Crump,  old  man  ? "  suddenly  exclaimed 
Sturgeon. 

"  Sturgeon,  old  boy  ?  "  responded  Crump. 


234  BETWIXT  AND  BETWEEN. 

They  shook  hands  in  that  hasty  way  as  if 
they  did  not  know  exactly  what  they  were 
doing,  and  they  withdrew  in  company. 

"  And  I,"  said  the  young  landscape-gardener 
to  Edith,  "who  shine  neither  in  the  army  nor 
finance  and  society,  and  only  appear  betwixt 
and  between  these  distinguished  claimants — 
you  can  overlook  all  that  and  still  be  satisfied 
with  me?  " 

"Yes,  for  this  once,"  she  replied  with  a  smile 
of  the  sweetest  indulgence,  "  but  don't  let  it 
happen  again." 


A  CHRISTMAS  CRIME. 


M 


ISS  DE  GILBERT  was  a  stately-looking 
girl,  in  a  soft  white  gown,  with  a  scarf  of 
the  same  material  tied  lightly  about  her  shoul- 
ders. There  was  a  sort  of  Marie  Antoinette 
suggestion  in  her  aspect,  and  also,  as  it  were, 
the  shadow  of  a  brooding  sorrow  hanging  over 
her. 

She  was  from  somewhere  or  other — we 
haven't  always  time  in  this  busy  world  of  ours 
to  find  out  where  everybody  is  from.  There 
was  a  general  impression  that  she  had  lately 
come  back  from  abroad.  She  was  visiting  in 
town.  She  was  a  friend  of  our  hostess,  Mrs. 
Grambold,  or  had  been  particularly  recom- 
mended to  her,  and  that  lively  young  matron 
had  invited  her  for  this  dinner.  People  came 
rather  late ;  and  Mrs.  Grambold — busy  with 
about  a  hundred  things  at  once,  as  was  her  usual 


236  -i    CHRISTMAS   CRIME. 

custom,  was  not  able  to  tell  much  about  this 
guest  in  advance,  either. 

Mr.  Grassletree,  who  took  Miss  de  Gilbert 
in,  was  particularly  impressed  by  her.  In- 
deed, he  induced  the  hostess  to  change  the 
arrangement  already  made,  and  give  her  to 
him.  Towards  him,  on  the  contrary,  she 
showed  as  much  asperity  as  politeness  permit- 
ted. If  he  drew  from  her  an  occasional  rare 
pale  smile,  it  was  only  by  the  exertion  of  his 
utmost  powers  of  entertaining. 

Who  was  Mr.  Grassletree  ?  Oh,  Grassletree 
was  a  kind  of  law  unto  himself.  He  was  one 
of  those  persons  such  as  we  meet  with  in  our 
journeys  about  the  Club  end  of  town.  In 
short,  Grassletree  was  Grassletree. 

It  was  Christmas  Eve.  After  dinner  a 
couple  of  standard  young  banjo  players  of 
North  America  gave  some  selections,  Miss 
Amy  Goboy,  of  the  Amateur  Comedy  Com- 
pany, recited  a  sweet  thing  or  two,  and  then 
we  settled  down  upon  the  floor  to  tell  ghost 
stories.  We  spread  out  a  lot  of  cushions  com- 
fortably all  around,  and  in  the  midst  set  a 
large    tin    pan,  containing   a  plate    in    which 


A    CHRISTMAS  CRIME.  237 

burned  a  mixture  of  salt  and  alcohol.  This 
cast  a  pale  flickering  light  over  all  the  faces 
and  gave  the  proper  weird  and  ghastly  effect. 
In  spite  of  this,  however,  the  ghost  stories 
rather  languished. 

Mr.  Grassletree  now  all  at  once  drew  a  heavy 
sigh — keeping  Miss  Ernestine  de  Gilbert,  it 
might  be  noted,  well  under  observation. 

"  Speaking  of  Christmas  presents,"  said  he — 
when  nobody  at  all  had  been  speaking  of 
Christmas  presents — "  speaking  of  Christmas 
presents,  fellow-sufferers,  I'd  like  to  submit  a 
case  to  you." 

"  Anything  up  to  a  packing-case  ;  now  is 
your  time  ;  there  are  stockings  here  that  will 
hold  it." 

"  Speak  for  yourself,  Mr.  Chinkerton,"  said 
Mrs.  Grambold. 

"  I  thought  it  more  magnanimous  to  speak 
for  Miss  Goboy  or  Miss  Ten  Stroke." 

Both  those  young  ladies  uttered  shrill  excla- 
mations of  protest  and  resentment  at  this  au- 
dacity. 

"  Now  suppose  a  man  had  bought  a  present 
for  another  man,  and  then  yielded  to  the  temp- 


238  A   CHRISTMAS  CRIME. 

tation  of  keeping  it  himself?"  went  on  Gras- 
sletree. 

"  Mr.  Grassletree  has  yielded  to  a  tempta- 
tion. I'm  not  surprised  at  it  at  all.  I  think 
him  quite  capable  of  it,"  said  Elsie  Ten  Stroke. 

"  Tell  us  all  about  it ! "  clamored  the  com- 
pany. 

"  Well,  it's  like  this.  You  see  before  you 
one  who,  whom — which — but  let  it  pass ! 
Despise  me  if  you  will,  but  hear  me.  I  know 
not  why  I  speak  to  you  of  this  now,  but  probably 
because  there  comes  to  every  conscience-bur- 
dened criminal  a  moment  when  all  considera- 
tions of  prudence  must  be  laid  aside." 

"  Oh,  indeed !  "  said  Mrs.  Grambold,  and 
she  vivaciously  threw  at  him  a  small  sofa  pil- 
low that  made  a  convenient  missile. 

"  I  bought  the  nicest  thing  I  could  think  of 
as  a  Christmas  present  for  a  friend,  and  then 
couldn't  bear  to  give  it  him.  I  robbed  him,  as 
it  were," — he  bowed  his  head,  as  in  gloomy 
remorse,  upon  his  hand,  "  and  I  could  never 
look  him  in  the  face  again." 

"  It  was  only  between  you  and  yourself, 
wasn't  it?"  asked  Amy  Goboy.     "He  never 


A    CHRISTMAS  CRIME.  239 

knew  it,  and  besides  a  person  has  a  right  to 
change  his  mind." 

"  No  that  was  the  worst  of  it :  there  was  glar- 
ing testimony  and  proof.  Witnesses  could  be 
produced  to  show  that  I  had  actually  bought 
it  for  him." 

"  Well,  it  could  be  easily  explained,  and  I 
suppose  nothing  came  of  it  ?  " 

*'  My  dear  friend  was  ruined,  and  the  article 
I  had  proposed  to  give  him  would  have  saved 
him,  that's  all.  I  am  the  cause  of  all  his 
calamities." 

"  Will  you  stop  your  circumlocutions,  and 
goon?"  demanded  Mrs.  Grambold,  peremp- 
torily. 

"  I  used  to  see  the  article  in  the  show-win- 
dow, day  after  day,  as  I  passed  by.  I  thought 
I  could  get  it  at  any  time,  and  so  was  in  no 
hurry.  '  It's  the  very  thing  for  old  Fred,'  I 
used  to  say  to  myself  and  the  others.  *  It  will 
suit  him  to  a  "  t  ".  Old  Fred  shall  have  it  as 
sure  as  my  name  is  Sam  Grassletree.'  One  day 
it  was  missing  and  I  had  a  regular  panic  ;  but  I 
found  it  had  only  been  taken  out  of  the  window 
to  be  shined    up  a  bit.     That  decided   me  ;  I 


240  A    CHRISTMAS  CRIME. 

bought  it  at  once.  Some  poor  devil  of  a  me- 
chanic had  got  it  up  for  himself  originally,  and 
it  was  the  only  one  of  the  kind.  There  never 
was  a  thing  more  exactly  adapted  to  Fred's 
case." 

At  the  name  of  Fred,  Miss  de  Gilbert,  who 
had  sat  hitherto  in  dignified  silence,  had  visibly 
started,  and  she  began  to  pay  close  attention. 

"What  was  it?"  demanded  a  chorus  of 
voices. 

"  It  was  a  most  ingenious  invention. — I  re- 
turned to  America  with  it  about  three  weeks 
afterwards." 

"  Do  you  want  to  drive  us  mad  ? — *  article,' 
'thing,  'invention,* — what  was  it  ?" 

"  What  was  it  ?  It  was  an  antol-aphobo-takis- 
taferon;   that's  what  it  was." 

"  Is  that  all  of  it  ?  " 

"  Do  you  get  a  commission  ?  " 

"  Shall  we  leave  orders  for  it  at  the  grocer's, 
the  stationer's,  or  the  blacksmith's  ?  " 

"  Tell  us  instantly  what  you  mean,  and  cease 
this  aggravating  conduct." 

"  That's  a  part  of  it. — It  was  a  musical-early- 
rising-without-alarm  clock." 


A    CHRISTMAS  CRIME.  241 

"  Oh,  indeed  !  only  an  alarm  clock  ?  " 
"  No,  a  witkout-dAdLvm  clock.  Instead  of 
springing  at  you  in  a  ferocious  way,  as  those 
clocks  usually  do,  like  a  kind  of  moral  rattle-' 
snake,  it  began  gently,  soothingly,  with  soft 
mellifluous  notes,  and  gradually  increased  the 
pressure,  till  you  were  thrilled  all  over  with  an 
idea  of  the  grandeur  and  glory  of  getting  up 
to  breakfast,  and  going  about  your  day's  work. 
I  tell  you  what,  when  you  had  once  known 
the  antolaphobotakistaferon,  it  was  invaluable. 
But,  at  first,  I  had  hesitated  between  that  and 
a  thlao-pil-akoustikony 

"  Is  that  all  of  it,  and  would  your  friend  have 
liked  that  too?" 

"  He  was  an  amateur  of  all  curious  contriv- 
ances, and  I'm  sure  he  would." 

"  What  was  that  curious  contrivance  ?  " 
"  Oh,  that  was   a   combined    crush    hat  and 
acoustic  fan.     You  could  use  it  at  the  opera, 
you  know,  or  a  concert,  for  bringing  the  sounds 
nearer.     And  it  might  serve  to  fill  up  a  gap  in 
the  conversation  now  and  then." 
"Or  a  gap  in  one's  information." 
"  Even  this  would  have  saved  him  from  much 


242  A    CHRISTMAS  CRIME. 

of  the  misery  into  which  he  fell.  Ah !  I  was 
Fred  Bradstock's  worst  enemy.  Imagine  the 
feelings  with  which  I  first  met  him  after  thus 
purloining  his  property." 

Miss  Ernestine  de  Gilbert  started  now 
indeed  ;  one  would  say  she  had  some  pecu- 
liar interest  in  this  name. 

Mrs.  Grambold  endeavored,  in  the  dark,  to 
kick  the  narrator  warningly  with  her  small  foot, 
but  did  not  succeed  in  reaching  him. 

"If  it's  Fred  Bradstock  you  mean,"  here  put 
in'her  husband,  "  you  are  not  troubled  with 
confronting  him  very  much  of  late.  He's 
been  at  the  Antipodes,  or  somewhere  near 
it,  for  I  don't  know  how  long.  He's  in  the 
Bermudas  now,  I  believe,  with  a  yachting 
party," 

"  Happily  for  me,  yes,"  assented  the  nar- 
rator, with  a  new  access  of  mournfulness. 
What  I  tell  you  of  happened  a  good  while  ago. 
We  are  judged  by  our  intentions,  and  I  felt 
guilty  before  him,  even  from  the  first,  though 
I  little  suspected  then  what  genuine  cause  I 
was  going  to  have  for  it." 

A  gasp  merging  into  a  disdainful  sniff,  or  a 


A    CHRISTMAS   CRIME.  243 

disdainful  sniff  merging  into  a  gasp,  came  from 
the  direction  of  Miss  de  Gilbert. 

"  The  worst  burden  on  me  was  the  witnesses, 
who  had  known  of  my  intentions.  They  all 
returned  to  this  country  at  once.  I  had  to  be 
a  whole  corps  of  detectives  in  myself  to  keep 
them  and  Fred  apart.  I  paid  the  fare  of  one 
of  them  to  Florida,  got  another  away  on  some 
plausible  pretext  to  Montreal,  and  let  the  third 
into  such  a  good  thing  in  an  interest  of  mine  in 
a  Montana  stock  ranch,  that  he  couldn't  possi- 
bly refuse  to  go  there. 

"  Why  not  confess, — if  you  felt  so  badly 
about  it,  as  you  say  ?  " 

"  You  do  not  know  the  antol-aphobo — the — 
persuader,  when  you  talk  like  that.  Will  you 
believe  that  I,  inheriting  a  nervous  tempera- 
ment, and  almost  constitutionally  incapable  of 
sleeping  after  seven  in  the  morning,  actually 
cultivated  the  habit  of  taking  opiates,  to  enjoy 
as  much  as  possible  the  delightful  sensation  of 
being  waked  up  by  the  antol-aphabo-takista- 
feron^ 

"  Are  all  your  long  names  strictly  neces- 
sary?" demanded   Miss  Amy  Goboy,  suspic- 


244  A    CHRISTMAS  CRIME. 

iously,  "are  they  really  the  names  of  the 
things?  " 

"  They  strike  me  as  very  good  names  for  the 
things,  and  I  give  them  for  what  they  are 
worth. — You  see  the  case  of  Fred  was  peculiar. 
On  the  one  hand,  he  had  some  heart  trouble, 
and  couldn't  be  called  by  any  of  the  existing 
alarm  clocks,  because  the  rattling  metallic 
things  might  have  scared  him  into  an  untimely 
grave.  On  the  other  hand,  he  needed  some 
assistance,  for  he  could  not  be  depended  upon 
to  wake  up  on  his  own  account.— Out  of  these 
conditions  developed  the  possibility  for  evil  in 
my  duplicity,  in  all  its  glaring  horror." 

Charlie  Chinkerton,  a  versatile  genius,  had 
placed  himself  at  the  piano  and  was  playing  a 
slow  accompaniment  to  the  narrative.  At  the 
last  words  he  struck  two  or  three  chords  of 
heavily  ominous  import. 

"  I  began  to  trace  constantly  in  Fred's 
record  the  baneful  influence  of  my  theft- 
There  was  the  case,  for  instance,  where  he  lost 
the  grizzly,  in  California.  His  guide  inadver- 
tently failed  to  call  him,  and  the  hunt  was  up 
and    away   three   hours   before    he  put    in  an 


A    CHRISTMAS  CRIME.  245 

appearance. — It  was  a  stuffed  grizzly,  it  is  true, 
but  if  he  had  been  there  he  would  have  known 
it  and  saved  the  reputation  of  the  party,  for  he 
had  been  taken  in  once  with  a  stuffed  deer,  in 
the  Adirondacks." 

"  Grassletree,  you  are  up  to  something  in  all 
this,"  said  our  hostess  ;  "  I  don't  know  what  it 
is,  but  I  think  I  ought  to  throw  another  sofa- 
cushion  at  you." 

And  she  proceeded  to  do  so. 

"You  are  too  good,"  said  the  story-teller, 
easily  catching  this  ineffective  missile.  Then 
he  continued : 

"  The  antol — the  musical-early-rising-without 
alarm — persuader  would  have  saved  him  from 
being  left  by  the  steam-launch  at  the  ocean 
yacht  race ;  it  would  have  saved  him  from 
being  left  at  the  great  Rockaway  steeple- 
chases ;  and,  again,  it  would  have  saved  him 
from  being  late  at  his  broker's  office,  the  day 
that  K.  G.  &  Q.  stock  jumped  up  twenty 
points  in  an  hour.  I  need  not  go  over  the  list 
of  all  the  other  appointments,  whether  of  busi- 
ness or  pleasure,  he  disastrously  missed, 
through     the     same    cause.     But    the     really 


246  A    CHRISTMAS  CRIME. 

tragic  episode  was  the  breaking  off  of  his 
engagement." 

Chinkerton  here  struck  a  most  discordant 
crash  upon  the  keys. 

''This  is  really  too  much!"  exclaimed  the 
hostess — whether  she  meant  Chinkerton  at  the 
piano  or  some  other  circumstance. 

Miss  de  Gilbert,  who  had  shown  signs  of 
extreme  restlessness,  for  some  time  past, 
attempted  to  rise  from  the  improvised  divan. 
It  was  not  so  easy  a  matter,  however,  in  the 
toilette  of  the  day,  and  before  she  had  pro- 
gressed far,  Grassletree,  continuing  imperturb- 
ably  but  more  rapidly,  had  said : 

"  They  say  the  girl  he  was  engaged  to  was  a 
perfect  fascinator,  just  too  pretty  for  anything. 
She  was  from  somewhere  out  of  town,  Spuyten 
Duyvil,  Yonkers,  Baltimore,  or  something  that 
way.     She  was  rich." 

A  scoff  of  indignation  from  Miss  de  Gilbert, 
engaged  in  her  efforts  to  get  up. 

"  Beautiful,  refined,  accomplished,  most 
charming  in  every  way.  She  was,  as  I  have 
been  told,  all  that  the  most  ardent  fancy  could 
paint,  and  I — I — you  conceive  the  bitterness 


A    CHRISTMAS   CRIME.  247 

of  this  avowal — was  the  sole  cause  of  the  break- 
ing of  that  engagement." 

Miss  de  Gilbert  settled  back  with  a  sigh  upon 
her  cushions.  Mrs.  Grambold  telegraphed 
her  reassuringly  with  eyes  and  lips  : 

"  He  does  not  know.  I  have  not  told  any- 
body." 

It  was  apparent  that  Grassletree  could  not 
be  stopped.  One  thing  was  certain,  that  he 
held  the  attention  of  the  company — particu- 
larly that  of  its  most  perverse  member — very 
fixedly. 

"  The  union  of  those  two  admirable  persons, 
exactly  suited  to  each  other,  was  prevented  by 
the  antolapho — the  musical-early-rising  pro- 
ducer. Once  more  poor  Fred  was  missing  at 
the  critical  moment." 

"The  wedding?" 

"  No,  but  almost  the  next  thing  to  it.  His 
fiancee  s  heart  had  been  set  on  having  him 
appear  at  a  certain  dinner — to  meet  her  rela- 
tives and  so  on.  He  did  not  appear,  and  she 
threw  him  over,  and  that  was  the  end  of  it 
all.  But  it  was  only  the  fault  of  not  having 
the  missing  machine,  and  not  his  own  in  the 


248  A    CHRISTMAS   CRIME. 

l^ast.  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it.  One  of  the 
peculiarities  of  Miss — er — of  his  affianced — a 
part  of  her  charm,  showing  force  and  real 
character,  was  that  she  was  implacable, 
unchanging  as  the  laws  of  the  Medes  and 
Persians.  It  is  a  delicate  matter  to  touch 
upon,  and  I  don't  pretend  to  fathom  the  subtle 
mysteries  of  the  female  heart,  but  I  have  some- 
how gathered  that  there  was  another  girl  at 
the  dinner,  who  flattered  herself  she  might 
have  been  a  successful  rival  for  Fred's  affec- 
tions, and  it  was  thought  he  did  not  want  to 
see  her  so  publicly.  Of  course,  it  is  amply 
demonstrated  that  there  was  nothing  in  this, 
if  only  by  the  fact  that  Fred  has  never  set  eyes 
upon  that  one  since," 

"But  will j/^«  tell  us  what  a  musical  alarm- 
clock  can  have  had  to  do  with  his  being  late 
at  dinner?  You  don't  want  us  to  believe  he 
slept  all  day,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  It  was  in  Philadelphia — now  I  thiirk  of 
it,  it  was  in  Philadelphia.  They  dine  there  in 
the  middle  of  the  day ;  for  all  I  know,  it  was 
twelve  o'clock,  sharp." 

"  But  even  if  it  was,  considering  the  occasion 


A    CHRISTMAS   CRIME.  249 

and  that  he  was  visiting  there  expressly  on  her 
account,  he  might  have  managed  to  get  up  by- 
noon  at  least  once  in  his  life." 

"  Oh,  he  did,  he  did !  I  happen  to  know 
that  he  did  a  lot  of  things  that  day,  bright 
and  early.  He  went  out  to  Bryn  Mawr,  and 
attended  the  City  Troop  Races.  He  was  on 
the  jump  from  morning  till  night." 

"  But  then,  self-contradictory  person,"  cried 
Mrs.  Grambold,  "what  are  you  telling  us? 
Why  could  he  not  have  gone  to  the  dinner  as 
well  as  elsewhere  ?  " 

"  He  mistook  the  day,  you  know,  that's  the 
point ;  he  thought  it  was  another  day." 

"  But,  in  the  name  of  long-suffering  patience, 
what  had  your  wretched  alarm-clock  to  do  with 
his  mistaking  the  day?  " 

"  Oh,  don't  speak  of  it  in  that  way,"  he  pro- 
tested tenderly. 

"  Well,  your  absurd  alarm-clock,  then  ?  " 

"  Pardon  me,  not  an  alarm-clock  ;  it  was  a 
without-alarm  clock.  It  was  a  musical-early- 
rising — " 

"  But  what  had  that  to  do  with  his  mistak- 
ing the  day?  " 


250  A    CHRISTMAS   CRIME. 

'  Oh,  yes ;  it  had  a  calendar  attachment ; 
didn't  I  tell  you  about  that  ? — or  did  I  only 
mention  its  self-lighting  candle  ?  If  he  had 
seen  the  calendar,  you  know,  if  he  had  seen 
that  index  hand  come  round  slowly,  but  inex- 
orably, pointing  out  your  Tuesdays,  Wednes- 
days, and  Thursdays,  no  such  dreadful  error 
could  ever  have  arisen." 

With  this,  the  company  began  to  break  up. 
While  the  preparations  for  departure  were 
going  on,  Mr.  Grassletree  and  Miss  Ernestine 
de  Gilbert  gravitated  together,  casually,  as  it 
were,  and  drew  a  little  apart. 

"  How  did  you  know  who  I  was?  "  asked  the 
lady,  with  a  languid,  proud  way  of  poising  her 
head. 

"  From  the  description.  Yours  were  the 
eyes,  the  hair,  a  certain  stately  carriage,  I  had 
heard  of,  from  Fred,  too  often  to  be  forgotten. 
There  was  a  particular  charming  dimple  near 
the  left  corner  of  the  mouth — " 

"  That  will  do  on  that  score." 

"  When  I  discovered  you  here,  I  induced 
Mrs.  Grambold,  by  special  request,  to  let  me 
take  you  in." 


A    CHRISTMAS   CRIME.  251 

"  Did  you,  indeed  !  I  half  suspected  it. 
Well,  I  knew  you,  too.  You  were  one  of  his 
dissolute  companions." 

"  Ha,  ha ! "  laughed  her  auditor—with  only 
a  rather  hollow  sort  of  mirth,  however. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  continued,  "  was  there  a  sin- 
gle word  of  truth  in  all  your  ridiculous 
story  ?  " 

*'  I  really  mean  that  there  is — that  there  was, 
about  such  a  clock.  And  I  really  mean  that 
Fred  adores  the  very  ground  you  walkon.  He 
is  one  of  the  most  wretched  men  in  two  hemi- 
spheres without  you." 

"  There,  that  will  do,  also.  Were  you  seri- 
ous when  you  said  that  his  health  was  not  good, 
that  he  was  disposed  to  heart  disease  ?  " 

"Oho  !  "  reflected  Grassletree,  "  so  the  wind 
lies  in  that  quarter  ?  She  takes  a  little  inter- 
est, after  all." 

"  I  honestly  think  his  heart  is  in  no  danger," 
he  said  aloud,  "except  in  so  far  as  it  may  be 
affected  by  his  sufferings  on  your  account." 

"  But  you  have  given  him  such  an  absurd, 
stupid  character.  He  is  not  the  indolent 
person  you  represent  him  to  be.     He  occupies 


252  A    CHRISTMAS   CRIME. 

himself  in  a  great  many  useful  ways  besides 
in  his  sports.  Go  back  and  say  something  that 
will  set  those  people  rigliL  about  him." 

"  It  would  hardly  be  necessary.  I  fear 
those  people  are  already  in  the  habit  of  taking 
Samuel  Grassletree's  utterances  with  some 
grains  of  salt." 

"Then  what  does  this  all  mean?"  she  asked, 
infinitely  puzzled. 

"That  '  I  would  give  half  I  possess,'  as  the 
novelists  say,  to  bring  you  and  my  old  young 
friend,  Frederick  Bradstock,  together  again. 
If,  in  the  mean  time,  nothing  has  happened  to 
prevent  it,  why  can  it  not  be  done?  May  I 
venture  to  ask — with  infinite  respect — whether 
anything  has  happened  on  your  side  ?  " 

"No,"  she  replied  diffidently,^' nothing." 

"  Then,  as  between  two  sensible  and  well- 
disposed  human  beings,  frankly,  why  can  it 
not  be  done?  " 

"  No,  no,  it  can  not  be  done.  I  will  not 
hear  of  it,  on  any  account. — The  fact  is,  he  did 
not  ivant  to  go  to  that  dinner  from  the  first, 
aud  I  had  to  try  and  make  him.  I  knew  I 
must    put    my  foot    down  in  the    beginning. 


A    CHRISTMAS   CRIME.  253 

Now  tell  me  the  real  reason  why  he  stayed 
away." 

"  I  am  sure  you  do  not  really  think  old  Fred 
would  get  up  false  ones  to  account  for  it," 
expostulated  his  friend  Grassletree. 

"  He  has.  never  given  any,  except  that  he 
forgot  the  day." 

"  Why  not  accept  that  one,  then,  by  way 
of  a  little  variety  ?  It's  gospel  truth,  I  assure 
you.  Fred  was  in  a  strange  town  ;  he  had  a 
lot  of  things  to  do,  and  he's  always  something 
of  a  dreamer,  you  know.  Bless  you,  what's 
the  harm  in  a  little  absent-mindedness?  The 
greatest  men  have  been  troubled  that  way. 
Look  at  me :  I  left  my  best  umbrella  in  the 
omnibus  this  very  morning  !  All  Fred  Brad- 
stock  needs,  my  dear  Miss  de  Gilbert,  is  an  ac- 
complished wife.  With  just  the  right  kind  of 
wife,  to  infuse  her  own  method  and  precision, 
into — shall  we  say  his  madness  ? — he'd  be  a 
model  of  m.odels  in  every  particular." 

"  I  dare  say,"  rejoined  his  hearer,  dryly. 
"  Let  us  hope  he  may  get  such  a  one." 

"  I  have  seen  him  knock  his  head  against 
the  wall,  on  account  of  his  conduct,  a  dozen 


254  A*  CHRISTMAS  CRIME. 

times.  *  It  was  so  uncomplimentary  to  her,' 
he  says,  '  it  can't  be  explained.  She  treated 
me  just  as  I  deserved  ;  she  couldn't  have  done 
otherwise." 

"Of  course  I  could  not,"  assented  Ernestine 
de  Gilbert,  "  but,"  flushing  very  much  and 
almost  tearful,  "  why  didn't  he  do  something 
further?  He  might  have  persisted  ;  he  might 
have  kept  on  trying  to  explain." 

"  As  I  understand  it,  you  would  not  see  him, 
and  poor  Fred  was  never  glib  with  his  pen.  If 
I  am  right,  also,  you  returned  some  of  his  let- 
te/s  unopened.     Am  I  right  ?  " 

She  lowered  her  head  a  trifle,  as  if  in  haughty 
admission  that  this  was  so.  But,  somehow,  the 
shadow  of  a  brooding  sorrow  did  not  seem  to 
hang  over  Miss  de  Gilbert  half  as  much  now  as 
formerly. 

"  Fred  got  it  into  his  head,  at  last,  that  you 
were  glad  the  match  was  off,  and  that  you  liked 
some  one  else  better.  On  this  wrong  tack — as 
we  now  see  it  was — he  tried  to  brace  up  by  de- 
voting himself  to  other  women,  but  it  was  all 
no  go.  I  happened  to  see  it  for  myself,  and  I 
tell   you,    there's   not    an    unhappier   man   in 


A    CHRISTMAS  CRIME.  255 

Christendom  to-day  than  that  same  Fred  Brad- 
stock." 

"You  must  go  at  once,  and  say  something 
before  all  those  people  to  set  him  right,"  ex- 
claimed his  hearer,  a  little  irrelevantly. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen  !  "  thereupon  began 
Grassletree,  advancing  in  a  sort  of  professional 
way.  "  Ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  company ! 
I  wish  to  say  that  while  driven  by  a  reckless 
despair  to  ease  an  overburdened  conscience,  I 
may  at  the  same  time  have  seemed  to  depre- 
ciate another  person.  Let  me  say  that  Fred 
Bradstock  is  no  inmate  of  the  Castle  of  Indo- 
lence, and  that — while  all  the  claims  of  the 
antol-aphobo-takistaferon  remain  as  i^epresented 
— anybody  has  got  to  get  up  very  early  in  the 
morning,  indeed,  to  catch  him  napping.  I 
seem  to  feel,  too,  a  certain  prophetic  sense  that 
the  end  of  his  troubles  may  be  near.  I  would 
withdraw  no  essential  statement,  but  I  suggest 
that  all  that  part  of  the  allegations  relating  to 
Frederick  Bradstock  be  stricken  out,  or  con- 
strued only  in  that  Pickwickian  sense  so  proper 
to  this  genial  East  Thirty-fourth  Street  ob- 
servance at  this  hospitable  Christmas  home, — 


256  A   CHRISTMAS  CRIME. 

that  is,  this  home-like  Christmas  occasion,  at 
this  observant, — In  short,  I  am  thoroughly- 
convinced  that,  so  far  from  needing  adven- 
titious aids,  the  more  persons  you  sent  to 
waken  Frederick  Bradstock,  the  sounder  he 
would  sleep ;  whereas,  the  fewer  and  the 
less — " 

^^  Dont  make  it  worse,"  hastily  whispered  a 
voice  at  his  sleeve. 

And  the  next  moment  she  began  hesita- 
tingly, "  Of  course,  if  you  say  Fred  is  really 
sorry — " 

In  the  very  next  mail  there  went  to  the 
Bermudas  a  letter,  in  which  Frederick  Brad- 
stock  was  assured  that  the  chances  of  win- 
ning back  his  old  sweetheart  were  now  most 
promising. 

"  I  told  them  all,  after  dinner,"  the  letter 
concluded,  "a  wild  tale  of  a  without-alarm 
clock  I  had  meant  to  give  you.  By  hook  and 
by  crook  I've  fixed  it  all  up  with  her,  and  it's 
rather  a  handsome  piece  of  work  on  my  part. 
By  the  way,  that  clock  isn't  a  bad  one ;  I'll 
send  you  the  maker's  name.  I  dare  say  they 
are  in  the  market  by  this  time. — Miss  de  Gil- 


A    CHRISTMAS   CRIME.  257 

bert's  yours,  my  boy.     Come  home  and  take 
her  and  the  blessing  of 

"  Samuel  Grassletree." 

At  the  very  earliest  moment,  too,  returned 
an  answer  from  the  Bermudas. 

"I'm  coming  home — "  "Of  course  he  is, 
lucky  young  dog!  Why  shouldn't  he?  Of 
course  he  is — "  interpolated  Grassletree,  com- 
placently. "I'm — I'm — "  "bless  me,  what's 
this?  What's  this?"  "I'm  on  my  wedding 
trip.  Married  to  a  lovely  girl  I  met  in  the 
Islands.  Affair  been  on  some  time,  but  you've 
been  so  deuced  off  these  last  few  years,  no 
chance  to  tell  you  about  it.  Comparisons  are 
odorous,  but  the  de  Gilbert — well,  the  fact  is, 
the  de  Gilbert  was  a  little  inclined  to  be 
domineering.  Excuse  short  letter.  Tell  you 
all  about  it  when  we  meet." 

Samuel  Grassletree  was  not  an  accomplished 
whistler,  but,  on  this  occasion,  he  whistled. 
For  an  instant  he  raised  his  hand  against  the 
without-alarm  clock,  as  if  to  do  it  violent  injury ; 
but  instead  of  yielding  to  this  impulse,  he  took 
it  down  frorrr  the  modest  place  it  had  occupied 


258  A    CHRISTMAS  CRIME. 

in  his  bedroom,  and  placed  it  boldly  on  the 
most  conspicuous  wall  of  his  apartment. 

After  that,  he  sat  down  and  reflected  on  the 
divers  characters  of  the  persons  who  had  heard 
his  story  on  Christmas  Eve,  and  particularly  on 
certain  positive  traits  in  Miss  de  Gilbert. 

He  began  to  think  he  would  take  another 
European  trip. 


A   DOMESTIC  MENAGERIE. 


A  CANARY-BIRD,  by  the  name  of  "Trill," 
resided  in  a  gilt  wire  cage  in  the  window 
of  a  dining-room  facing  north.  I  can  not  say 
whether  the  bird  had  any  other  name  or  not. 
If  he  had,  of  course  it  would  have  been  Bar- 
clay. Perhaps  it  would  have  been  Trill  W. 
Barclay,  or  Trill  Alexander  Barclay,  or  some- 
thing of  that  kind.  At  any  rate,  he  belonged 
to  the  Barclays,  and  was  only  being  taken  care 
of  temporarily  by  friends  of  theirs  during  the 
absence  of  the  Barclays  in  Europe. 

This  was  a  handsomely-furnished  dining- 
room,  and  pleasant  enough,  when  a  good  fire 
burned  in  the  grate  and  not  too  much  was  ex- 
pected from  the  weather  without.  At  the 
same  time,  it  must  have  been  rather  discour- 
aging to  a  bird  thus  thrown  upon  his  own  re- 
sources, as  it  were,  to  have  to  sing  in  a  window 


26o  A   DOMESTIC  MENAGERIE. 

opening  to  the  north,  where  the  sun  never 
came  in.  If  you  ask  why  he  was  not  hung  in 
some  other  room  then,  I  can  not  exactly  tell 
you,  but  no  doubt  there  were  good  reasons. 
For  one  thing  the  people  couldn't  help  the 
way  their  house  faced,  could  they?  What  is 
certain  is,  that  it  was  found  most  convenient  to 
hang  the  cage  there  on  its  first  arrival,  and 
there  it  continued  to  remain. 

The  people  in  whose  charge  the  bird  was 
thus  placed  were  a  young  couple,  not  long 
married.  The  house,  of  the  "  English  base- 
ment "  pattern,  was  given  the  bride  by  her 
father  as  a  wedding-present.  The  pair  were 
persons  who  perhaps  did  not  care  so  very  much 
for  birds.  A  slight  coolness  arising  from  this 
cause  may  have  combined  with  the  unfa- 
miliar surroundings  to  increase  the  natural  re- 
serve of  Trill,  and  detract  from  the  excellence 
of  his  music.  The  apparent  mediocrity  of  his 
talent,  as  thus  influenced,  again,  may  have 
added  somewhat  further  to  his  new  guardians' 
lack  of  interest. 

A  certain  "  Peter  "  brought  Trill  down  from 
the  Barclays'  when  they  went  away,  put  up  a 


A    DOMESTIC  MENAGERIE.  261 

hook  in  the  top  of  the  window,  and  suspended 
the  cage  to  it  by  a  brass  chain.  This  Peter 
was  a  peculiar  old  man  of  German  or  Scandi- 
navian extraction — who  claimed  to  have  been 
once  a  sailor.  He  had  his  quarters  in  a  poor 
basement,  on  the  door  of  which' he  had  put  a 
home-made  sign  running  about  as  follows : 


tAKiNg    caRe   of   fURNlsses,    CaRyiNg   in    Cole 
AND  going  OUT  By  dAys  woRk  doNE  HERe. 


He  had  come  round  at  first  as  a  mere  beg- 
gar. The  lady  of  the  house  had  charitably 
given  him  clothes  and  food,  then  trusted  him 
with  odd  jobs,  such  as  shaking  carpets  and 
cleaning  up  the  cellar,  and  had  found  him  a 
good,  honest,  well-meaning  man,  broken  down 
by  misfortunes.  She  had  by  degrees  given 
him  the  regular  occupation  of  looking  after 
the  furnace  and  carrying  coal  to  the  upper 
stories,  to  relieve  a  servant  who  grumbled  a 
great  deal  too  much  over  these  things.  He 
had  managed  to  secure  more  work  of  the  same 
sort  elsewhere,  and  had  ended,  as  we  have 
seen,  by  making  a  profession  of  it. 


262  A   DOMESTIC  MENAGERIE. 

The  family  consisted  of  the  young  couple, 
whom  we  may  designate  here  as  the  Man  and 
the  Lady,  with  two  servants,  a  cook  and  a 
chambermaid. 

The  Man,  when  at  leisure  in  the  dining- 
room,  would  often  bestow  very  particular  at- 
tention upon  a  small  collection  of  rare  ceramics 
he  had  there,  on  some  bracket  shelves  in  a  cor- 
ner. Trill's  cage  almost  touched  it,  yet  the  Man 
took  no  more  notice  of  it  or  him  on  these  oc- 
casions than  if  he  did  not  exist. 

"A  bird  might  be  in  Jericho,  for  all  he 
cares,"  I  wish  it  to  be  supposed  that  Trill 
reflected.  The  Man  indeed?  not  he.  He 
would  caressingly  flick  off  a  speck  of  impercep- 
tible dust  from  a  blue  plate  of  the  willow  pat- 
tern, give  an  affectionate  pat  to  a  Flemish 
pitcher  or  a  German  beer-mug,  change  a  Quim- 
per  mustard-pot  for  a  Sevres  cup  and  saucer, 
or  set  a  Chinese  jar  with  raised  figures  in  mosaic 
where  one  of  Italian  majolica  had  been  before; 
and  then  he  would  stand  back  with  half-closed 
eyes  and  stare  at  the  whole  effect  with  keen 
enjoyment. 

"  What  does  he  get  so  much  pleasure  out 


A   DOMES  JVC  MENAGERIE.  263 

of?"  let  US  suppose  Trill  still  to  reflect. 
"  Is  it  that  pinky-faced  girl  in  a  crimson  gown, 
on  the  plate  which  forms  the  apex  of  the  pyra- 
mid ?  Most  likely  it's  she.  She  sits  down, 
does  she?  Her  hair  is  ebony  black,  her  eyes 
are  made  with  two  whisks  of  a  brush.  Not  to 
speak  of  beauty — she  hasn't  even  an  intelli- 
gent look.  She's  highly  insipid,  if  I  know  any 
thing  about  it.  That  style  of  dress,  too,  may  be 
all  very  well  for  those  who  like  it,  but  it's  cer- 
tainly no  triumph  of  taste." 

One  day  a  fashionable  little  old  lady  came 
into  the  room  and,  adjusting  her  eye-glass 
upon  that  particular  specimen,  exclaimed  to 
the  Man : 

"  That  plate  is  three  hundred  years  old  at 
least.  That  is  the  real.  Oh,  it  is,  you  know ; 
it  is.  You  can  tell  it  by  the  cracks  and  every- 
thing." 

The  Man  began  to  say  something  as  if  in 
protest,  but  the  little  old  lady  was  hard  of 
hearing,  or  else  she  had  a  way  of  walking  right 
over  whatever  he  said,  for  she  went  on : 

"  It's  immensely  valuable  ;  immensely!  Oh, 
I  am  a  great  judge  of  such  things." 


264  A    DOMESTIC  MENAGERIE. 

Upon  this  the  man  desisted.  Either  he 
could  not  make  her  listen,  or  may  have 
thought  it  a  pity,  since  the  fashionable  little 
old  lady  was  such  a  great  judge  of  such  things, 
to  say  anything  to  the  contrary. 

Now  Trill  may  have  meditated  once  more 
as  to  this — and  then  again,  of  course,  he  may 
not,  "Ah,  three  hundred  years  old,  is  she? 
and  I  am  but  two  and  a  half  at  most.  Why 
should  I  expect  to  be  noticed  ?  " 

The  next  day,  when  the  Lady  was  cleaning 
the  cage  and  putting  in  fresh  water  and  seed 
as  usual — for,  out  of  consideration  to  the  Bar- 
clays, she  preferred  to  do  this  service  herself 
instead  of  leaving  it  to  the  maid — the  Man, 
quite  in  keeping  with  his  crabbedness  from  the 
first,  took  occasion  to  remark : 

"It  seems  to  me  that  cage  gives  you  a  great 
lot  of  trouble.  When  are  those  Barclays  of 
yours  coming  back,  to  take  it  off  your  hands?  " 

The  Lady,  who  was  a  far  more  amiable  per- 
son, as  anybody  could  see — and  probably  much 
too  good  for  such  a  man — replied  that  she  really 
did  not  mind  it.  The  Barclays,  she  thought, 
would  return  in  the  spring. 


A  DOMESTIC  MENAGERIE.  265 

"When  little  old  Mrs.  Methusaleh,  your 
aunt,  was  here  waiting  for  you,  yesterday,"  said 
the  man,  for  so  the  talk  went  on,  "  she  de- 
clared that  cheap  Italian  plate  of  mine  at  least 
three  hundred  years  old,  and  immensely  valua- 
ble. You  remember  my  buying  it  last  year  at  the 
pottery  in  Vicenza — a  common  little  bit,  with 
some  decorative  effect  but  really  no  value 
whatever.  What  an  idiot  she  is  !  If  that's  the 
reputation  a  plate  is  going  to  get  by  being 
smashed  into  a  hundred  pieces,  perhaps  we'd 
better  smash  them  all.  However,  that  mustn't 
be  smashed  anymore,  though  I  found  it  a  little 
topply  only  yesterday.  It's  such  a  soft  ware 
that  another  fall  would  be  the  end  of  it,  and 
thengood-by,  my  sweetheart  of  Vicenza  !  " 

"Sweetheart  of  Vicenza? — 'Common  little 
bit,'  I  should  say  so.  And  this  is  the  sort  of 
thing,  forsooth,  a  bird  is  sacrificed  to !  Oh, 
very  well ! " 

Another  irritating  circumstance  on  the  part 
of  the  family — of  the  Man  especially — was  the 
interest  taken  in  a  certain  Scotch  terrier, 
named  Osman  Pasha.  To  prefer  an  object  like 
that,  again,  to  a  canary,  indicated  some  extreme 


2  66  A    DOMESTIC  MENAGERIE. 

perversity  of  nature.  The  terrier  had  no  shape 
at  all,  and  his  frowsy  hair  overhung  his  small  eyes 
in  such  a  way  that  you  couldn't  tell  one  end  of 
him  from  the  other.  Still,  whoever  could  like 
a  soft  ware  "  Vicenza  sweetheart,"  in  a  brick- 
red  costume,  was  no  doubt  capable  of  liking  an 
Osman  Pasha,  or  any  other  monstrosity,  for 
that  matter. 

This  Osman  Pasha  had  two  pronounced 
eccentricities.  In  the  first  place,  he  had  a 
chronic  aversion  to  being  washed.  Notwith- 
standing that  the  process  was  performed  upon 
him  regularly  every  few  days,  familiarity  never 
reconciled  him  to  it.  The  bare  mention  of  it 
would  cause  him  to  prick  up  his  ears  in  alarm 
and  try  to  beat  a  retreat.  If  the  purpose  were 
seriously  entertained,  if  he  were  commanded, 
for  instance  :  "  Come  here,  Osman,  it  is  time  to 
be  washed !  come,  sir,  you're  going  to  be 
washed  !  "  then  indeed  would  he  retire  in  earn- 
est, beginning  in  a  cringing  way,  casting  back 
furtive  glances  over  his  shoulder.  If  actually 
seized,  he  would  set  up  expostulatory  yelps 
that  were  only  smothered  in  the  tub  itself. 

In    the   second  place,  Osman   Paska  had  a 


A    DOMESTIC  MENAGtlRIE.  267 

mortal  dread  of — a  baby.  This  may  have  been 
either  the  result  of  teasing  by  thoughtless  in- 
fants, or  one  of  those  natural  antipathies  of 
which  so  many  instances  are  related  in  history. 
Thus  several  distinguished  personages  have 
fainted  at  a  certain  perfume ;  Jagellan,  king  of 
Poland,  could  not  abide  apples  ;  Marshal  Saxe 
was  afraid  of  cats ;  Erasmus  of  fish ;  and 
Vangheim,  the  grand-huntsman  of  Hanover,  of 
a  roast  pig.  Osman  Pasha  would  rush  out  into 
the  hall  at  the  ring  of  the  door-bell,  bark  even 
at  the  tallest  and  stoutest  men,  and  return, 
wagging  his  tail  with  satisfaction.  But  if  the 
puniest  babe  in  arms  appeared,  he  was  stricken 
with  abject  fear,  and  sought  the  most  obscure 
refuge  he  could  find.  If  he  could  climb  into 
the  open  drawer  of  a  bureau  or  dresser,  nothing 
suited  him  better,  and  he  was  often  found  there 
long  afterwards,  coiled  up  and  fast  asleep. 
However  we  may  explain  these  idiosyncracies, 
the  fact  was  as  I  tell  it. 

Otherwise  Osman  Pasha  was  a  dog  fond  of 
having  his  back  scratched,  would  roll  over  for 
the  process  to  be  repeated  upon  his  stomach, 
waving  his  paws  in  the  air ;  then  he  would  leap 


268  A    DOMESTIC  MENAGERIE. 

up  and  frantically  lick  your  face,  tear  about  the 
room,  and  come  back  and  lie  down  on  the  rug 
to  sleep.  He  did  not  go  to  sleep  all  at  once 
either,  but  would  often  blink  benevolently 
around,  and  even  when  his  eyes  had  been  shut 
for  a  time  would  acknowledge  casual  references 
to  himself  such  as,  "  Nice  old  Osman  Wosman, 
was  he  sleepy  ?  "  by  appreciative  wags  of  his 
tail. 

The  situation  being  thus,  a  number  of  re- 
markable series  of  events  took  place  in  the  din- 
ing-room, one  day  towards  the  end  of  March. 

The  Man  went  to  his  shelves  of  pottery 
specimens,  as  usual.  He  was  adding  some 
small  new  article  of  this  Longwy  faience  that 
has  been  so  much  talked  of,  of  late.  While  so 
occupied,  he  became  aware,  just  at  his  ear,  of  a 
series  of  sweet,  ingratiating  chirps.  He  felt 
sure  that  on  looking  around  he  should  find  the 
bird  aiming  to  make  his  better  acquaintance. 

"  Pe-e-eep  ! — tr-r-r — che-e-eep!  "  chirped  Trill. 

But  when  the  Man  really  turned  round  to  look 
he  was  astonished  instead  to  find  the  case  quite 
otherwise.  Trill  had  assumed  a  most  belliger- 
ent and  threatening  demeanor.     He  had  swelled 


A   DOMESTIC  MENAGERIE.  269 

out  his  round  little  breast,  extended  his  wings 
widely,  and  opened  his  mouth  to  such  an  extent 
that  scarcely  anything  was  visible  but  this  yawn- 
ing chasm. 

''Hallo!"  said  the  Man,  amused,  "is  that 
you  ?  Don't  eat  a  fellow  up  all  at  once  ;  don't 
now,  really ! " 

But  Trill  only  advanced  further  on  his  perch, 
and  seemed  to  say :  "  Oh,  yes,  I  will  indeed. 
Nothing  shall  stop  me.  I  am  going  to  do  it 
right  now." 

The  Man  laughed,  and  even  called  the  Lady 
from  the  reception-room  to  see  how  the  bird 
was  acting.  Trill  did  not  abate  his  ferocity,  but 
had  an  air  of  meaning  : 

"  I  have  stood  this  thing  about  long  enough. 
You  can  see  how  you  like  it  yourself.  I  am  a 
very  much  provoked  bird,  and  when  I  am  mad, 
you  can  take  the  consequences." 

Later,  the  same  morning,  when  the  Lady  was 
coming  along  towards  the  dining-room  again, 
in  slippers,  her  steps  falling  noiselessly  on  the 
thick  hall  carpet,  she  paused  to  witness  a  most 
singular  spectacle  transacting  within.  She  mur- 
mured, in  a  tone  of  suppressed  excitement : 


270  A    DOMESTIC  MENAGERIE. 

"  My  good  gracious  me !  Who  ever  heard 
of  such  a  thing?  " 

She  went  back  on  tiptoe,  placing  a  finger  on 
her  lips,  summoned  the  Man,  and  they  returned 
together.  A  mouse  had  clambered  up  the  cur- 
tains and  let  himself  down  by  the  brass  chain 
to  Trill's  cage,  and  there  he  was  munching 
away  for  dear  life  at  the  canary-seed  in  the 
cups. 

Trill's  manner  now  was  neither  blustering 
nor  terrified.  It  was  a  compound  of  distant 
respect  and  curiosity.  He  drew  nearer  and 
nearer  to  his  unceremonious  visitor,  and  finally 
pecked  some  seeds  out  of  the  dish  beside  him 
By  degrees,  hqwever,  his  curiosity  seemed  to 
give  place  to  solicitude,  for  which  there  was 
reason  enough.  The  mouse,  by  no  means  con- 
tented with  a  dainty  peck  now  and  then  in 
bird-fashion,  was  nibble-nibble-nibbling  away 
without  a  second's  intermission,  and  what  would 
remain  for  Trill's  share  presently  wouldn't  be 
worth  mentioning. 

The  observers  held  their  breaths  to  see  what 
Trill  would  do,  but  all  at  once  was  heard  the 
loud  bang  of  the  spring-door  at  the  foot  of  the 


A    DOMESTIC  MENAGERIE.  271 

basement-stairs,  shutting  in  its  usual  sudden 
way.  At  this  alarm,  the  mouse  disappeared  in 
a  twinkling,  Trill  flew  excitedly  round  his  cage, 
Osman  Pacha  woke  up  from  a  nap  on  the  rug 
and  made  a  random  dart  or  two,  as  with  a 
vague  impression  of  having  missed  something 
particularly  good.  Peter  hove  in  sight  from 
the  stairs,  bearing  two  heavy  scuttles  of  coal, 
and  breathing  hard. 

"  Peter,  how  could  you  ?  "  cried  the  Young 
Lady,  stamping  her  foot  as  his  grimy  head  ap- 
peared. "There  was  a  mouse  in  Trill's  cage, 
and  we  were  just  going  to  see  what  it 
would  do." 

"  God  bless  all  good  souls,  ma'am,"  Peter  re- 
sponded. He  had  a  great  habit  of  mumbling 
to  himself.  Not  being  a  person  of  sufficient 
importance  to  secure  other  listeners,  as  it  may 
be  supposed,  he  made  the  most  of  the  one 
he  had.  He  seemed  religious,  and  whatever 
he  said  audibly  consisted  of  pious  ejaculations. 
A  turning-point  in  Peter's  career,  again,  was 
that  some  man  "  had  not  done  as  he  agreed,"  and 
of  this  also  he  spoke.  Who  the  man  was,  why 
he  had  not  done  as  he  had  agreed,  and  what  he 


272  A   DOMESTIC  MENAGERIE. 

had  agreed  to  do  that  he  had  not  done,  will 
now  probably  never  be  ascertained. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  of  such  a  thing  in  all 
your  born  days,  Peter?"  the  Lady  exclaimed 
again. 

"  In  Chicago,  ma'm,  sailin'  the  lakes, — 'n'  he 
says,  'n'  I  says, — 'n'  a  fowl — "  mumbled  Peter. 

"  Was  it  a  canary  bird  ?  " 

"  It  was  a  colt,  ma'am, — one  o'  them  chunky- 
built  ones,  so  I  believe." 

Upon  this  the  old  man  moved  on,  without 
resentment  at  the  short  way  he  had  been 
snapped  up  ;  and  his  heavy  step  and  stertorous 
breathing  were  heard  on  the  parlor  floor,  and 
then  that  above,  as  he  toiled  upward  with  his 
burdens. 

This  might  be  supposed  sensation  enough  in 
the  house  for  one  day,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
the  excitement  was  only  just  beginning. 

The  man  went  up  to  his  study,  where  he 
had  some  important  matter  to  occupy  him. 
The  Lady  put  on  an  ornamental  apron  and 
took  down  Trill's  cage  to  repair  the  devasta- 
tions of  the  gormandizing  mouse.  She  removed 
the  lower  or  floor-part  for  this  purpose,  and  set 


A   DOMESTIC  MENAGERIE.  273 

the  cage  proper,  containing  the  bird,  on  the 
table.  She  talked  to  Trill  while  thus  engaged, 
and  asked  him  what  he  thought  of  the  mouse, 
whether  it  ought  not  to  have  been  ashamed  to 
come  unasked  and  eat  up  all  his  provisions, 
and  many  similar  questions ;  to  all  of  which 
Trill  made  no  reply,  but  sat  with  his  head  on 
one  side,  as  if  lost  in  profound  meditation  at 
the  incident. 

Going  away  a  few  steps  and  turning  her  back, 
the  Lady  looked  around  just  in  time  to  see 
Trill  beat  strongly  against  the  small  door  of  his 
cage.  It  had  become  unfastened,  and,  before 
she  could  prevent  it,  he  flew  out  and  up  to  the 
ceiling.  She  was  frightened  to  death.  There 
was  the  grate,  with  a  blazing  coal  fire  in  it,  for 
one  source  of  imminent  peril.  Another  was 
Osman  Pasha,  who  followed  the  movements  of 
the  bird  with  his  eyes,  and  then  began  to  tear 
around  the  room  in  pursuit  of  him  like  mad. 
Having  lost  one  good  thing  to-day,  he  was  by 
no  means  disposed  to  lose  another. — And  who 
could  say  how  many  more  perils  yet  there  might 
not  be  in  store  for  Trill  ? 

"  Oh  !  what  shall  I  do  ?  "  moaned  the  Lady, 


274  A   DOMESTIC  MENAGERIE. 

clasping  her  hands.  "  How  can  I  ever  look 
the  Barclays  in  the  face?  Oh,  that  I  should 
have  let  it  happen  again." 

The  last  expression  was  a  little  indefinite. 
It  did  not  mean  that  the  bird  had  escaped 
before.  It  meant  that  he  had  once  suffered 
severely  from  a  cold,  ceased  even  to  twitter, 
stayed  in  the  wet  sand  at  the  bottom  of  his 
cage,  and  kept  opening  his  mouth  with  a  gap- 
ing movement.  He  had  been  too  weak  even 
to  sit  upon  his  perch,  but  had  fallen  off  when 
he  attempted  to  reach  it.  They  had  sent  him 
on  that  occasion  to  a  bird-fancier's,  on  Sixth 
Avenue,  where  board  and  medical  attendance 
cost  forty  cents  a  week,  and,  instead  of  dying 
on  their  hands  as  they  expected,  he  had  been 
restored  to  health.  To  think  that,  having  come 
through  such  a  trial,  he  should  now  be  reserved 
for  this ! 

The  Lady  flew  to  the  door  and  screamed  to 
Peter.  She  hardly  dared  to  call  the  Young 
Man  again ;  he  had  been  interrupted  quite 
enough  to-day,  and  he  cared  little  for  Trill  at 
best.  Besides,  it  was  doubtful  if,  in  his  closed 
room,  he  could  hear,     Then  the  lady  flew  to 


A    DOMESTIC  MEMAGERIE.  275 

the  dumb-waiter  and  screamed  to  Johanna 
McKenna,  the  cook,  in  the  kitchen.  These 
two  responded  as  soon  as  convenient,  prepared 
to  lend  their  assistance. 

The  campaign  for  the  re-capture  of  the  fugi- 
tive, under  these  auspices,  was  not  of  the  most 
brilliant  kind.  Johanna  armed  herself  with  a 
broom.  Peter  made  rheumatic  dives  at  the  bird 
with  one  of  his  coal-scuttles,  grasped  in  both 
hands.  The  Lady,  for  her  part,  now  aban- 
doned herself  hopelessly  to  lamentation,  now 
held  out  the  cage  alluringly  to  Trill,  and  now 
made  ineffectual  attempts  to  stop  Osman 
Pasha.  Osman  Pasha  grew  every  moment 
more  transported  with  enthusiasm  and  beyond 
the  control  of  ordinary  motives.  In  vain  the 
Lady  clapped  her  hands  imperiously  and  cried  : 

"  Come  and  be  washed  !  Osman  Pasha,  do 
you  hear  what  I  say  ?  Come  and  be  washed 
this  instant,  sir!  " 

Round  and  round  he  went  all  the  same.     He 
jumped  over  her  head  when  she  stooped  to 
catch  him  ;  he  even  tried  in  his  zeal  to  scram-" 
ble  up  the  walls  ;  and  a  number  of  times  the 
bird  only  escaped  his  jaws  by  actual  miracles. 


276  A   DOMESTIC  MENAGERIE, 

The  door-bell  rang  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  but 
no  one  in  the  dining-room  had  leisure  to  an- 
swer it.  Trill  followed  the  cornice  of  the  room, 
poised  upon  the  picture-frames,  the  door-casings, 
the  chandelier,  and  the  silverware  on  the  side- 
board. There  his  golden  body  made  a  decor- 
ative effect  which  might  have  been  worth  the 
attention  of  a  jeweler.  He  dashed  among  the 
ornaments  on  the  mantel-piece,  and  it  was  a 
mercy  he  was  not  shriveled  up  in  the  fire  be- 
fore you  could  say  Jack  Robinson. 

The  Man  now  suddenly  appeared  at  the 
door,  with  a  telegraph  messenger  behind  him. 

"  I  should  like  to  know  if  there  is  nobody 
to  answer  the  bell  any  more?"  he  said.  "It 
made  such  a  din  I  had  to  come  down  myself. — 
Here's  a  telegram  saying  the  Barclays  have  just 
arrived  and  will  send  for  their  bird  to-morrow." 

At  this  the  Lady  sat  down  and  began  to  cry. 

"  Hal-/t?  !  "  said  the  Man  ;  "  what's  up  ? 
what's  going  on  here?" 

Then,  taking  in  the  situation,  he  joined  ac- 
tively in  the  pursuit.  He  stationed  the  Lady 
in  front  of  the  fire,  with  directions  to  spread 
her  skirts  out,  so  as  to  act  as  a  screen,  since 


A   DOMESTIC  MENAGERIE.  277 

the  blower — as  must  needs  happen  when  most 
desperately  wanted — could  nowhere  be  found. 
A  happy  inspiration  for  circumventing  Osman 
Pasha  next  occurred  to  him.  It  happened  that 
a  baby  was  visiting  the  house,  and  was  up-stairs 
with  its  nurse  at  that  very  time. 

"  Bring  the  baby  !  Bring  the  baby  !  "  he 
commanded,  with  great  presence  of  mind. 

'^  0\\,  yes,  bring  the  baby!  bring  the  baby! 
Johanna,  run  !  "  screamed  the  Lady. 

The  baby  was  brought  forthwith.  So  terri- 
ble in  its  might  did  it  prove  that  Osman  Pasha 
was  checked  even  in  the  midst  of  his  wild 
career.  He  slunk  away,  and  hid  his  head, 
ostrich-fashion,  under  a  waist-pattern,  fallen  out 
of  an  overturned  work-basket.  There  he  was 
captured,  and  he  was  eliminated  from  the 
scene  as  one  of  the  sources  of  danger. 

The  Man  now  undertook  the  chase  upon 
logical  principles.  He  \yaved  Trill  into  corners, 
first  with  a  palm-leaf  fan,  then  with  a  long 
feather-duster,  and  had  a  step-ladder  carried 
around  behind  him  to  mount  upon  at  the  proper 
moment.  But  time  after  time  Trill  eluded  his 
grasp.    The  man  began  to  wear  a  heated  expres- 


'278  A    DOMESTIC  MENAGERIE. 

sion.  The  lady  followed  him  anxiously  around 
and  held  up  the  margin  of  her  apron  as  if  to 
throw  it  over  a  bird  fourteen  feet  up  in  the  air* 
Peter  continued  his  occasional  dives  with  the 
coal-scuttle,  and  Johanna  McKenna  had  se» 
cured  a  pair  of  tongs* 

Poor  Trill,  frightened  by  the  hue  and  cry, 
made  such  desperate  efforts  to  escape  that  he 
seemed  likely  to  do  himself  an  injury.  It  was 
pitiful  to  see  his  agitation  and  uncertainty. 
More  than  once  he  threw  himself  violently 
against  the  walls,  as  if  determined  to  seek  the 
Canary  Islands  and  the  road  to  freedom  by  the 
most  direct  way  possible,  and  he  seemed  to 
find  it  singular  he  was  so  withstood. 

"  Oh,  if  he  were  only  mine  !  "  bewailed  the 
Lady,  "  I  should  not  care  so  much.  Oh,  what 
will  the  Barclays  say  to  me  ?  And  they  are  to 
send  for  him  to-morrow  !  " 

Trill  began  to  show  signs  of  exhaustion.  He 
rested  wearily  upon  a  photograph  of  the  Bridge 
of  Mount  Blanc  and  the  Island  of  Jean  Jacques 
Rousseau,  but  was  soon  off  again  to  the  cabinet 
of  ceramic  specimens.  He  poised  upon  the 
topmost  plate,  the  portrait  of  the  Vicenza  girl 


A   DOMESTIC  MENACERtE.  279 

in  the  crimson  dress,  fluttered  up  again,  at- 
tempted to  regain  it,  and  slipped  down  out  of 
sight,  as  in  a  nest,  into  a  small  triangular  space 
behind,  between  the  plate  and  the  walls. 

Now,  if  ever,  is  the  Man's  opportunity.  He 
approaches  noiselessly  with  his  step-ladder. 
He  mounts.  He  throws  his  handkerchief  over 
the  top  of  the  enclosing  space.  Oh !  be  joy- 
ful !  Trill  is  imprisoned  below.  He  has  but 
to  reach  down  and  take  the  wonder  into  cus- 
tody. The  man  reached  down,  through  the 
enveloping  handkerchief — Care-ful-ly — C-AU- 
TIOUSLY^ 

Oof!!!     Poof!!!! 

The  man  is  so  startled  that  he  tumbles  to 
the  floor,  his  neck  all  but  dislocated.  The  bird, 
uttering  a  plaintive  little  cry,  had  struggled  up 
again  with  unsuspected  vigor,  and  once  more 
escaped  from  his  very  hands. 

The  step-ladder  falls  with  the  Man.  Down 
comes  too  the  crimson  lady  with  her  ebon  hair 
and  eyes  like  sloes,  and  is  smashed  to  flinders. 
At  least  a  hundred  other  pieces  are  now  added 
to  the  original  hundred. 

But  no  sooner  was  the  Vicenza  sweetheart 


28o  A    DOMESTIC  MENAGERIE. 

laid  low  than  Trill,  whether  repentant  for  the 
trouble  he  had  caused  or  simply  rejoicing  in 
his  victory,  flew  of  his  own  accord  to  his  cage,^ 
placed  himself  on  his  perch,  and  began  such  a 
caroling  as  it  was  a  delight  to  hear.  It  was 
melody  that  the  severest  stoic  could  not  have 
refused  to  listen  to,  and  was  poured  forth  in 
rapturous  floods.  The  man  suffered  himself  to 
be  attracted  by  it  even  under  all  his  sense  of 
discomfiture  and  loss. 

"  I  do  believe  the  little  rascal  did  it  on  pur- 
pose," he  declared. 

This  warbling  continued  at  short  intervals 
all  day  long.  It  was  both  remarkable  in  itself 
and  because  they  had  never  before  heard  Trill 
sing  with  any  freedom.  His  manner  also 
changed ;  instead  of  rufifling  with  indignation 
at  the  Man  he  would  now  hop  from  bottom  to 
top  of  his  cage  with  pleasure,  and  always  break 
out  into  music. 

"  Either  the  unusual  exercise  of  his  tour 
around  the  room  did  him  good,"  said  the  Man 
— "and  if  he  were  going  to  stay  we  should  give 
him  a  good  deal  more  of  that — or  he  distinctly 
and  with  malice  aforethought  intended  to  get 


A   DOMESTIC  MENAGERIE.  281 

rid  of  that  plate  and  draw  attention  to  himself. 
I  will  wager  the  latter  is  so." 

In  the  sequel,  although  the  Barclays  had  re- 
turned, they  did  not  send  for  Trill  next  day,  as 
they  had  proposed.  They  went  off  for  a  visit 
elsewhere,  before  settling  down  ;  then  the  sum- 
mer vacation  came  on  ;  and  so,  in  one  way  or 
another,  Trill  was  suffered  to  remain. 

Both  the  Man  and  the  Lady,  and  the  former 
particularly,  grew  greatly  attached  to  him  after 
the  adventure  described.  They  placed  him  in 
the  Lady's  bed-room,  where  the  sunshine  came 
in  freely  and  he  became  such  a  different  bird 
from  what  he  had  seemed  at  first  that  you 
would  hardly  have  known  him.  The  last  that 
was  heard  of  the  Man  he  was  declaring  that  the 
Barclays — now  traveling  in  California — should 
never  have  Trill  again.  He  declared  that  he 
would  pay  any  price  they  might  ask,  but 
Trill  should  henceforth  be  his  and  nobody 
else's. 

It  was  found  that  the  plate  could  be  re- 
paired after  all,  in  spite  of  impressions  to  the 
contrary ;  and  if  it  had  once  seemed,  to  the 
fashionable  little  old  lady,  three  hundred  years 


252  A   DOMESTIC  MEtfAGERTE. 

of  age,  it  must  now  have  seemed  six  hundred 
at  least. 

As  to  Osman  Pasha,  his  absurd  aversion  to 
infants,  if  any  thing,  increased.  It  was  all  very 
well  until  a  baby  came  permanently  to  reside 
in  the  house  ;  but  then  the  Lady  thought  there 
must  be  something  the  matter  with  him  like 
softening  of  the  brain.  One  day  Osman  Pasha, 
driven  to  bay,  actually  snapped  at  the  baby's 
nose,  and  that  important  feature  was  only 
saved  from  destruction  by  the  bare  fact  of  its 
non-existence. 

After  this  nothing  remained  but  to  send  him 
away,  in  charge  of  the  useful  Peter,  as  a  pres- 
ent to  some  friends  on  Staten.  Island. 

THE   END. 


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